Breath Of Heaven
by WinterD
Summary: S/7. The gang has to figure out exactly what's going on in Sunnyd, but they have a bigger problem then they realize. Crossover with A:tS.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Breath Of Heaven

Rated: R

Summary: S/7.  The gang has to figure out exactly what's going in Sunnyd, but they have a bigger problem on their hands then they realize.  And who's this mysterious girl and what does she have to do with anything?  And what's with Faith? And what's the First so happy about?

Ships: B/S, A/C, D/Cn, F/G, L/W (for sure I know those are in here)

Disclaimer: I own nothing; Joss, UPN, and WB own everything.

Spoilers: Anything through "Him" and a few possible spoilers and lots of speculation.  Also, spoilers through "Slouching Towards Bethlehem" in Angel, along with a few possible spoilers as well.

AN: Okay, found several theories floating around about this season on BtVS and AtS, and decided to take my favorite ones and write a story (at least that's how it started).  There could be some possible spoilers for either one of those shows, but most of this is just speculation or completely made up. Also, I feel I should tell you there will be strong religious themes and legends incorporated into the story.  It's not meant to offend anyone, but I'm telling you now that they are in here.   

***********************************************************************

Chapter 1

Somewhere down the street, a Salvation Army bell rang out for donations, a car horn blared as the car is cut off by another, and the local club's faint music was being carried on the wind.  Somewhere down the street, an annoyed mother pulled her son along the sidewalk away from the toy store display, a local group of musicians prepared to play Christmas carols on their instruments, and a couple held on close to one another to fight the bitter cold.  Somewhere down the street, people felt safe, felt cared for, felt…loved.  But that was somewhere down the street, not here.

The young teenage girl dug her hands deeper into her oversized coat, trying to warm her numb fingers.  The city really wasn't that bad, once you got used to the constant rain, but it still wasn't home.  She missed home sometimes, like when she hadn't seen the blue sky for three days, or when she saw a pair of sisters laughing at the café on the street corner.  But she didn't miss the pain, the mistrust, or the secrets.  

Holidays were the worst for her; they always made her think of her mother and what she would have done to make the event special.  On the Fourth she would have drug her and her sister to watch the fireworks out at the beach.  Then on Memorial Day, the others would have come over for a barbeque in the back yard.  And Thanksgiving there would be an enormous feast complete with a huge stuffed turkey and all the trimmings. The thought of the bird was enough to make her mouth water even now.  But she had no turkey this year, no barbeque, no fireworks.  All she had was herself, and the damp city of Seattle, Washington.

She turned the corner and felt a chill crawl up her spine as she passed the musicians who were sharing their instrumental rendition of "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas."  Someone was following her.  Her steps began to speed up as she approached 'home' or the abandoned warehouse on Elf Street that she shared with several other kids.   The foot steps began to speed up as well, and, before she realized it, they were both in a full run.

Chancing a glance over her shoulder, she could see a dark figure racing towards her faster and faster.  It would only a few mere seconds before the black clad person caught her because her body would not allow her to move any faster.  Her heart began to pound and her throat went dry as she tried to force herself to go faster without much success.  The figure was so close now and she could feel his deadly intent.

She raced around a corner, and ran into something that grabbed her by the arms.  With a terrified shriek, she began to wildly hit at the figure that held her.

"Hey, watch it, kid!" a male voice answered her.

The girl opened her eyes and found that she was now being held by a rather large, rather annoyed police officer.  His eyes were locked onto her as if he were trying to decide exactly what to do with her.  Behind him, the other kids that lived in the warehouse were being lead out in handcuffs and placed into the back of police cars.  Great, she ran right in on a raid.

"Where you goin', kid?" the officer asked. 

She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if the black clad man where still out there waiting for her.  A shadow moved out of the corner of her eye, telling her that he was waiting there, and would pounce as soon as he felt he could.  The girl swallowed hard, knowing it was either go with the cops, or surely be killed.

"Home," she answered, nodding her head towards the building.

The officer sighed as he yelled to the other officers.  "We got another one!"  He then asked her in a normal voice, "What's you name?"

"Max," she answered lowly. "I'm Max."

**********

Faith jerked in a breath as she awoke from the dream.  It hadn't frightened her like the others; she hadn't woken up in a cold sweat with Cynthia, her very large, very angry cellmate, yelling at her to shut her damn trap so she could get some sleep.  Still, that uneasy feeling she had whenever she had seen the other girls that were killed was washing over her as she thought about this girl Max. 

The slayer rolled over onto her back and looked straight up at the ceiling, with one arm resting behind her head as the other rested at her side.  The cell was dark except for the dim street light that bled through the thick, filtered window.  Below her, Cynthia snored loudly.  Faith hated that sound, and jerked her body to move the whole bunk beds.  Below, the large woman gave a snort, then rolled over onto her side, stopping the offensive sound.

Max.  What kind of name is Max?  People name their pets Max, not their children.  At least, not if they're girls.  Well, and if they were on TV, like in that James Cameron show that had been on Fox.  She liked that show; she wished they wouldn't have taken it off, but that new show was pretty good.  What was the name of it?  Lightening Bug or something like-

A cold hand reached up from beneath her and latched onto the wrist that rested at her side.  She jerked up and found a pair of dead eyes staring back at her.  It was a man creeping up from Cynthia's bunk, his eyes and lips white, while his skin showed years of decay.  There was a large wound in his chest, ruining the nice suit that he was wearing.  Faith recognized him; it was the deputy mayor she had killed all those years ago.

He held on tight to her wrist, and refused to let go no matter how much she tired to jerk it away.  His lips turned up to show a toothy, bone white smile that would send chills down Satan's spine.  "From beneath you it devours," he laughed before she heard a shrill, girly shriek.

Something kicked her hard in the back, nearly knocking Faith out of her top bunk.  "Damn it!" Cynthia yelled from below her as she awoke for real.  "Shut the hell up!"

The slayer lay there, gasping for a small breath.  That had been intense, the worst one yet.  She reached up and rubbed her hands over her face, but paused when she took the hands away.  The wrist the deputy mayor had grabbed had the impression of fingers wrapped around it.  Unconsciously, her whole body began to shake as she looked at the evidence that maybe it had been more than just a dream.  

One thing was sure, though; she wasn't going to get any more sleep that night.

**********

She hated early mornings.  Well, she hated mornings in general, but she really hated early school mornings.  Buffy couldn't help but snort at the thought of school mornings.  She thought when she had actually graduated from high school she wouldn't ever have to worry about that ever again.  Shows what she knows.

From the kitchen, the sound of the latest pop music and soft talking rose along with the scent of pancakes and bacon.  Oww.  Willow must have an early class.  

She didn't mind early school mornings when Willow had an eight o'clock class because that meant breakfast and coffee, the nectar of the gods, would be waiting for the slayer.  Dawn liked Willow's early classes too because it meant she actually got something besides cold cereal.  And on these cold winter days, a warm breakfast is much better than cold.

"Mmmm," Buffy said, taking a deep breath as she walked into the kitchen.  "What smells so good?"

Willow looked up from the stove, smiled at her friend, then walked with a pan of bacon over to an eager Dawn and her waiting plate. "Bacon, eggs, and pancakes," she informed the slayer.  "And there's fresh coffee."

"Have I mentioned how much I love you living with us lately?" Dawn asked, stuffing another fork full of eggs into her mouth.  "Cause, this is so much better than Frosty Flakes that Buffy shoves at me."

"Hey!" the blonde exclaimed as she poured the black liquid into a cup.  "Would you rather I try making eggs over easy again?"

"No!" both Willow and Dawn exclaimed at the same time.  The two looked at one another, before Dawn continued, "One visit from the fire department was enough, thank you."

Buffy pouted holding the cup of coffee up to her lips.  "It was only a tiny grease fire."

"They made us promise to never let you cook again," her little sister added dryly.

"They did not!" the slayer bit back.  "They just suggested it."

Willow shook her head before going and pulling another plate from the cabinet.  She placed it on the counter in front of Buffy, who had taken a seat next to her sister.  Sometimes it felt like she was having to mother the two Summers girls, not that she minded.  It gave her something else to think about then worrying about her magic and that nagging voice that was constantly scolding her for not finishing that retreat.  Maybe it was the fact that she wasn't the type of person to walk away from things like that that bothered her so much and not the magic itself.  Yeah, that was it.  She had quit; that's what was bothering her.

"Yo, earth to Willow?  You there, Willow?" Dawn spoke up from the island.

Willow jerked her head, shaking the thought away.  "Sorry, kinda spaced there for a minute."

"We can see that," Buffy said, starting to eat her own breakfast.  "So, what class do you have this morning?"

"Objective Oriented Programming," she beamed.  "We have a test today."

Buffy and Dawn stared at her for a moment as if she had completely lost her mind.  "Wills, I hate to say, but you just beat Xander as the strangest Scooby," Buffy sighed.

"I'm not strange," Willow answered, horrified by the very thought that her friends thought such a thing.  "Xander's way more strange than me.  I mean, hello, he almost married Anya.  That qualifies as way stranger than me wanting to take a test.  I mean, she's all demony again, or she was.  And, and Xander was still all 'I love her even if she did rip those frat guys hearts out.'  And, and, and I'm babbling again, aren't I?"

"Just a little," Buffy smiled.  She glanced down at the her watch, then said, "Come on, Dawn. We're going to be late for school."  The slayer froze for a second.  "Whoa, deja vu.  Quick, let's get going before I start going on about the cute boy in homeroom."

"Trust me, none of us want you to go there again," Dawn said, grabbing her bag off the ground to follow her sister.  "Unless you want to think another one of my boyfriends is your lover."

Buffy's eyes widened as the teen walked by.  "Just…shut up," she said, following her out of the house.

**********

Spike stood there, staring into the empty bathroom mirror, the faucet steadily running as he let his mind wander.  That was a dangerous thing for him to do, especially now that his mind was warring against him and his nature and his soul.  His mind didn't pick sides; it hated all of them.

There're times, like now, when it would mock him, replaying every vile, evil thing he had ever done.  Over and over they would come, in full Technicolor, until he was reduced to nothing more than a whimpering pile on the cold floor.  

The favorite one it had to taunt him with was her, lying on the floor, telling him to stop.  Sometimes it would be intermingled with the scene of her lifeless body on top of the debris, reminding how he was just as responsible for that as he was for the bathroom incident.  When the scene played out like it had actually happened, and she was standing there, clutching her robe closed, her bottom lip almost trembling, and that look of utter disgust, fear, and hurt in her eyes, that was what killed him; even more than the memories of her dead body and her grave.  

She had spat at him about why she could never trust him, but there was a problem with what she had said.  She had spoken as if she had never trusted him, but he couldn't have hurt her as badly as he had if she hadn't already.  No, she had said, "Ask me again why I can never trust you."  Instead, she should have said, "Ask me why I can never trust you again."  The placement of one word could make such a difference.  He had hurt her worse than anyone else before; he could see it in her eyes that night.

Hurt.  He had hurt the girl.  The girl he had sworn to have loved.  Love.  Did he really know what that was?  He thinks not.

"Stop it," he muttered to himself, his hands clutching the edge of the counter.  "Just shut the bloody hell up."

The voice never listened and it and his mind would laugh at him as they continued their attack.  It wouldn't listen, but when he refused to listen and focused in on something else, like the running water, it would quiet down.

Spike let out a sigh as the voice began to soften and play in the back of his mind like an old song that you couldn't remember the words to.  This was the closest he came to silence.  This was the closest he came to peace.

A billowing cloud of steam was steadily rising from the sink as Harris's hot water flowed unused down the drain.  Not exactly an evil act to feel guilty over; he had been using it until that brain of his decided to take a minor detour into Guilty Land with a small stop over in Insanoville, but he guessed he should go ahead and turn it off.  After all, the whelp had been nice enough to let him stay here, but only after the slayer had practically threatened bodily harm to both of them if they didn't agree.  And who says she doesn't care?

Shut up! he snapped at the inner monologue silently before reaching over and turning off the water.

Spike looked up into the empty mirror and jumped upon seeing a girl staring back at him.  She was young, maybe the Niblet's age, with long brown hair that was going wild on her head.  Her face was white and looked drained, and her eyes were dark with death.  But he didn't see any injuries on her.  She lifted her hand towards him and the tips of her fingers were covered in blood.

"Help me," she pleaded, her voice echoing as if she were far away.

Upon jerking back, Spike slipped on the fuzzy, green bathroom mat, sending him crashing to the ground.  His head banged hard against the wall, probably cracking both his skull and the sheetrock.  Groaning, he touched the back of his head and found the beginning of what was sure to be a large, nasty lump.  He pushed himself back up off the floor, and was torn between relief and dread when he found the mirror empty once more.

Buffy had been wrong.  It wasn't the basement that was driving him insane.  He was doing that all on his own.

**********

Principal Wood stood at the entrance of the school, watching as teachers and students filed in for a new day of school.  Some where polite enough to stop and speak with him, mainly the teachers, but he hardly listened to them anyway.  His mind was else where at the moment.

He glanced up when he saw the familiar truck pull up, and both the Summers women file out.  Dawn was laughing brightly as she said goodbye to the driver then headed up towards the school.  Buffy followed suit, but held back for just a moment to speak with the dark haired boy.  Her face fell slightly at something he said, before she followed her sister up the stairs.

Wood smiled brightly at her when she approached, and she returned the gesture, but it didn't reach her eyes.  "Something the matter, Ms. Summers?"

"No, not really," she lied.  He could tell she had.  Using the patented trademark principal eyebrow raise that he used to get students to tell the truth, he effectively made the young woman cave.  "Alright, I just got some news about a sick friend of mine."

"Not doing well?" he asked with a hint of false sincerity.

"He's better than he was," she sighed.  "But not as good as I hoped he'd be by now."

"Just give him time.  I'm sure he'll get better."

"I hope so," she sighed.  "Kind of miss patrolling with him."

"Pardon?" Wood said; confused by where that came from.

"Um, nothing," Buffy answered sheepishly, trying to make as hasty retreat into the school.  "I should, you know, get to work.  Yup, want to do a good job.  Help the kids and everything."

As she disappeared back into the crowd of children, Wood could only stare at where she had been.  He shook his head, and then said to himself, "Strange girl."

At his side, a black beeper began to shake feverously, drawing his attention back to what he had been waiting for.  He pulled it from his side, lifted it up, and read the words carefully.  

WE FOUND HER.

A small smile crept across his face.  Today promised to be a very good day.  

**********


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Cordelia walked down the street, clutching the shopping bag close to her.  She may not remember anything, like her mother's middle name or her first date or even her own birthday; but she did know one thing, shopping made it better.  It was an instinct really; kind of like on those nature shows where the newborn Siberian tiger knows to rut around blindly until it finds its mother's milk.  Something inside her just knew that shopping was her drug of choice and, once she tried on a couple of outfits or a new pair of shoes, she would feel better about not knowing anything.

Not that she had a lot of money to spend.  The other Cordelia, the one from before, had been able to live rather comfortably, but something inside her said she had been used to much better…accommodations in life.  If those yearbooks she found were any indication, she had at one time been the big, rich bitch on campus.  

By the way the others acted around her, that was hard to imagine.  They were all acting like she was some kind of saint or something.  She didn't feel like a saint.  Then, what does a saint feel like?  All saintly she supposed.

Maybe she should got back to this Sunnydale place, talk to the people there.  From what she gathered, she had grown up there; surely they would be able to fill in the blanks more than these people.  Angel and his people might hold bits of her past, but childhood friends would be able to fill in more of the blanks than them.

Besides, what kind of name is Angel for a guy?  Angel is a girl's name.  Makes it sound like he's gay or something.  God, it'd be such a shame for all womankind if he were.  Sure, he used a bit too much hair gel for her taste, but she could persuade herself to look past that.

Of course, it was harder to look past that whole unholy dead thing.  Sure, he was a souled vampire, but, hello, he was _still a vampire.  A blood sucking fiend from beyond the grave.  That was definitely harder to get over._

Cordy paused when she found herself standing in front of the large hotel that she had fled from a few nights before.  Her autopilot must be off, cause she knew she was on her way home instead of here.  This was the last place she wanted to be, where the liars were.  She knew that they were only trying to protect her, but lying was not something she tolerated.  At least, she didn't think she did.  

She turned around to leave and found a young girl standing behind her.  Cordy jumped in surprise, causing the child to do the same.  The girl was young, maybe Connor's age or a little younger.  Long brown hair, that looked as if it hadn't been brushed in weeks, flowed around her face, as if trying to hide who she was.  Something about the girl seemed familiar, like she should know her but she doesn't.  Surprise, surprise, Cordy doesn't remember someone.

"Um, can I…help you?" Cordelia asked, the words flowing out of her mouth in a strange smooth motion, like she was used to speaking them often.

"Depends," the teenager said in an almost defiant, yet slightly crazed, tone.  "I'm looking for a soul.  But I got lost along the way."

Cordy drew in her bottom lip, regretting having asked an obviously less than all there person if they needed help.  The teen seemed to be almost dancing while standing in one spot, alternating between looking up at the amnesiac woman and down at the ground.

"So, you're lost?" Cordy asked, shifting the bag in front of her as if it might offer some protection from the girl if she should attack.

With an unladylike snort that quickly turned into an insane giggle, the girl said, "That's what I'm told.  I was told you could help me.  You can help me find a soul."

Panic started to set in.  She couldn't handle a crazy, stalkery person right now, and this girl seemed the type.  "Try-" Cordelia nearly tripped when her heels slipped into a crack in the sidewalk, but she quickly recovered.  "Try inside.  They're the detective agency."

The brown-haired girl looked at her strange, like she hadn't understood a word she had just said.  When Cordy turned to bolt, the girl's hand shot out and wrapped around her arm.  

"But you were the higher being," she pointed out as if that should mean something.  "They said it would be you to help me."

Cordelia was torn between screaming for help and trying out those cool moves like she had used on those lawyers the other night.  On the one hand, she didn't want to hurt the kid who obviously needed help; but on the other, this girl was obviously not going to take no for an answer.

"Let her go," a voice said firmly from behind the teenager.

The two women looked up and found Connor standing there, a deep frown etched on his face.  His eyes were hard on the young girl that was holding on to Cordy, but the girl didn't seem surprised or scared by him.  In fact, her grin just grew as she seemed to forget about Cordelia and focus in on him.

"The Miracle Child," she stated plainly.

The boy's brow furrowed at her knowledge.  He looked up to the older woman for answers of how this girl could possible know that, but Cordy could only shrug her shoulders dumbly.  

The girl's face fell and she looked as if she might start bawling right then and there.  "I'm not crazy," she told them with large tears flowing down her cheeks.  "But I do need your help.  Please, help me."

**********

"-and according to scientists, this past summer's drought has devastated crops all across the United States.  That means the prices of wheat and corn will sky rocket over the next several months," the news man reported grimly.

The camera switched over to a passive looking woman.  "In Health Watch tonight, doctors are warning that the flu season is upon and is shaping up to be a bad year."

Giles switched off the television, having only been half watching it anyway, and went back to the large text in front of him.  Ever since Willow had returned to Sunnydale, he had found that he had quite a lot of free time on his hands.  The year before, he had gotten used to actually not having to do anything, but, now that he'd had 'a project' all summer, he found himself wishing for anything to do.  

Out of sheer boredom, he had even offered his services to the Watcher Council to index their collection of Watcher Diaries.  They had turned him down, but, thankfully, Aimee had found him something to do.  She was the leader of the coven that had helped him with Willow, and she had put him to work translating some old scrolls that the coven had come in possession of recently.  It was tedious, tiring, thankless work, and he loved every moment of it.  This put the Watcher back in his element, which he had not realized how much he missed until now.  So much for the idea that he hated this kind of work.

So far, the scrolls had not revealed any new information that hadn't been foretold in countless other text before them.  Yes, it had its own variation like all prophesies, but it was basically the same thing.  Still, he wasn't complaining.  He had long ago learned that no news was good news.

Giles finished with another paragraph, but paused at the next words.  The text suddenly changed over from a mixture of Latin and Greek to what appeared to be almost Babylonian.  That was certainly odd.  With a shrug, he abandoned the text that he had been using to translate the scrolls, and went to retrieve another book to help him with the rest.  Maybe something interesting will come of this.

**********

Lilah stood in front of the two way mirror, watching as the psychics and scientists worked together to try and figure out exactly what they had pulled out of the Host's head from a few nights before.  So far, they'd had little luck in translating the mess, the best they'd come up so far was bits and pieces of a prophecy about a famine that would plague the land.  Of course, then the scientist who had figured it out's head exploded, and the papers he had written the prophecy on had spontaneously combusted.  That did little to help them.

She couldn't shake the feeling that if Angel and his group had the information that they would be able to figure it out.  Scratch that, she was positive that they would, the PTB would be sure that their golden boy would be able to stop their own apocalypse, they always did.  It was amusing to think that those stupid powers were the ones that had fated the world to end, but when it came down to it, they always sent someone to stop it.  Guess they aren't quite ready to give up on man just yet.

Yes, she could just see Angel Investigations, sitting around with books sprawled open in front of them, paper spread about as they compared notes.  It would look more like a giant college study session than research on how to stop the world from being obliterated again.  

Angel would have some old leather bound edition in his hands as he paced around the lobby of the hotel; probably going on and on about how they needed to keep searching, that there had to be something they were missing.  He was not one to give up, no matter how hopeless the situation seemed.  Lilah admired his obsessive ness…stubbornness when it came to get things that he wanted.  He would make one hell of a lawyer with that quality.

That street punk of theirs, Gunn, would no doubt have no idea what he was reading, but would pretend like he did so the other wouldn't think he was stupid.  Opps, too late, they already think he is.  Guy just couldn't seem to get it through his incredibly shiny head that he was muscle, a hired gun.  Surely they couldn't value what some ex-juvenile delinquent had to say.  They couldn't be that dense could they?

Of course, if he did prove how dumb he was by actually speaking he would have that little chicken fried girlfriend of his to defend him. 'Oh, no, don't make fun of my boyfriend.  He loves me even though I'm shaped like a stick and a freak Texan girl who got sucked into another dimension while I was studying quantum physics.' A quantum physics major from Texas?  Now there was a laugh.  Shouldn't she be off running her Daddy's ranch while she and Billy Ray wait for their little bundle of joy, Bobby Gene, to arrive?

The Host would be sitting on the couch, clutching some brightly colored drink while trying to be as practical and helpful as he could be.  He'd probably make some smart ass remark before actually offering something usual for them to use.

And, if the situation was dire enough, they would bring in their big brain, Wesley; her pretty boy.  She couldn't help but frown when she thought of him, mainly because he confused her beyond belief.  

What had happened to them?  It started out simple enough.  She thought he might be useful, so she started to screw him so she _could be able to use him.  But now that she had, she felt badly.  She didn't think that she could feel badly, she was a bad guy after all, but he sure had made her feel that way.  Well, she would have to do something to make it up to him.  Maybe she would buy him a sharp, shiny new weapon, or some ancient artifact that only she had access too.  Yeah, that's what she would do.  He'd like that._

Gavin slithered into the room quietly like only the lawyers at Wolfram and Hart were able to do.  Now that she was in charge, her once rival co-worker had tried to change himself into her best boy, doing whatever she asked of him like a good little dog.  She wasn't sure if it was because he was afraid of her after seeing what she had done to her own boss, or if it was because he was waiting to do the exact same thing to her.  Lilah was willing to lay odds it was the later.  What was worse, he'd probably do it in some lame ass way.  Really, the boy had no finesse when it came to doing real evil. 

"Have they found anything yet?" he asked, standing about a foot directly behind her.

"Do you see any brains decorating the wall?" she spat back dryly.

"The Board won't like this.  They think too much time has already passed and that you should have a translation ready for them by now," Gavin informed her.  Though she couldn't see him, she would swear that he was smirking at her.  She turned around and caught him as he quickly suppressed the smile.

"Since when does the Board tell you anything?" she asked coolly.  "You're still just a gofer."

"You have your friends, Lilah.  I have mine."

The wavy brown-haired woman smirked slightly at the statement.  "You, Gavin, don't know anyone."

From inside the lab where the scientists and psychics were working, a blood curdling scream was let out, drawing the lawyers' attention.  Lilah quickly turned on her heels and saw one of the psychics clutching his head, stumbling back from on of the many sections they were working on.  The others quickly backed away from him, having no idea what was going on, but knowing it must be something bad.  The man screamed one last time, and then they watched as the back of his head popped like a party favor, coloring the white wall behind him in a splatter of red and gray.

Several scientists became sick, and when she turned away from the sight, she found that Gavin looked rather green himself.  

"Get the information he just translated and send it up to my office," she ordered calmly as she started towards the door.  Lilah paused on her way out and said over her shoulder, "Oh, and call maintenance and tell them I want that mess cleaned up immediately."

**********

Lorne watched as his friend tired to busy himself with mindless tasks that a trained chimp could do.  Poor guy was going to drive himself crazy by trying not to think about thinking about Cordy and his 'all demons besides Cordelia are evil' son.  Lorne still thought they should box the kid up and ship him over to England.  He'd make one hell of a Watcher with that attitude.

"So?  What do you think?" 

Looking up from the colorful drink in his hand, Lorne found Angel standing proudly in front of the newly rearranged weapons cabinet.  It had been the third time that day the soulful vampire had played with the placement of the weapons, and the green demon had no doubt that it wouldn't be the last.

"That you're doing your very best to stall from talking to our own little Prodigal Higher Being," Lorne answered dryly as he took a sip from his drink.

Angel groaned lowly to himself as he turned back towards the cabinet, not really feeling like discussing this again with the ex-lounge singer.  "I meant about the cabinet."

Carefully placing the Martini glass on the front of the counter, Lorne said, "I know what you meant, Sugar Plum.  Question is, do you?"

Angel looked at the weapons once more as he considered whether placing them from largest to smallest was actually a good idea or not.  It did seem kind of clumsy to have to reach over the bigger weapons to get to the smaller.  No, he'd change it again.  Cordy wouldn't like it this way.

Frowning deeply, his eyes scanned over the other weapons before coming to rest on one of the swords.    He remembered helping her learn some moves with that weapon and kind of considered it to be hers.  Reaching in, he pulled the weapon out smoothly before turning back to Lorne.

"She doesn't trust me, remember," he said in the controlled, even voice he had perfected over the years, but a touch of hurt bled through.  "She wants to stay with Connor."

Lorne took note of how Angel could no longer say his own son's name without a little bitterness to it.  The kid had put him through so much and didn't even care that he hurt the people around him, including Cordy.  Connor really was like his mother in that way.  Guess he just proved that some traits are genetic.

Part of the demon wanted to be able to believe that the Omen Child had lied to Cordelia to get her to stay, knowing how much his father would hate that.  But he couldn't tell Angel that because he knew it was a lie.  Connor would have told her the god's honest truth because it would work to his advantage. 

Angel had lied to her and got the others to lie to her.  It might have seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but it really wasn't.  All lying had done was tie a noose around Angel's own neck and sent the fair damsel in distress into the waiting arms of the black suit wearing, mustache having, just as willing to tie her to the train tracks if it hurts Angel villain of the piece.  But Lorne couldn't tell his friend that.  No, the only way to fix this is by talking, and, once again, neither one of them seemed willing to make the first move.  Course, Cordy couldn't remember anything, so he'd just have to work on the overly stubborn vampire.

"Look, Sweet Potato, you need to talk to the girl.  Explain to her why you did what you did," the green demon told him again as Angel walked behind the counter, placed the sword on top, and went looking for the polish.

"She doesn't want to talk to me right now," Angel told him defensively, before starting to polish the weapon.  "She's still to upset too even look at me." 

"Hello, Angel," a woman said calmly from the lobby door.

Both men looked up to find the very woman they had been discussing standing there, clutching a pair of shopping bags in front of her.

"Doesn't want to see you, huh?" Lorne said dryly in a low whisper.

"Cordelia," Angel in said in a low voice, staring at the former deity. She smiled almost shyly as he stumbled from behind the counter, still obliviously clutching the sword in his hand.  "What-what are you doing here?  Not that you need a reason, and I would actually be very happy if it's just a social call."

"Stop babbling and actually say something," the Host whispered to the vampire, covering his mouth with the martini glass so Cordelia couldn't see that he had said anything.

"Well, actually," the blonde woman said, glancing over her shoulder before moving out of the way.

Out from behind her, a young girl of about fifteen stepped inside.  Her face was that of someone amazed as she looked around the hotel lobby like she had never seen a place so large or beautiful before.  Her dark brown hair fell loose down her back, and looked as if it hadn't been taken care of for several days.  And, judging by the smell that he was picking up even from where he stood, it might be a fair assessment that the last time she took care of her hair had been the last time she had taken a bath as well.

Behind her, Connor stood out in the court yard, not daring to come in right at the moment his father was armed.  Angel couldn't help but frown when Cordy looked at the boy pleading him to come in with her.  The teenager looked at his father once more before coming in with the girls, but he made sure he was right next to Cordelia.  Angel wasn't sure if it was because the seer needed him, or it was because he knew that his father wouldn't like it.

"Wow, hey!" Angel heard Lorne exclaim from behind him.  The vampire turned around to find that the young girl that had come with the other two studying the demon with a curiosity.  Apparently she had reached out to touch his head that still bore the large slash that Wolfram and Heart had given him, but Lorne had stopped her before the fingers had connected.  She frowned at him as the Host explained, "Sorry, Dumpling, but the old noggin is still kind of sore."

"They came for you," she said with sympathy.  "They came for you because you knew about Mary and the maids.  You knew, but don't anymore, not like me."

Angel spun around on his heels to a confused Connor and a bewildered Cordelia.  "Who is she?"

"Phoebe Walker," the girl answered, as if the question had been directed at her.  "But my friends call me Phe."  She moved away from Lorne and walked over to the still opened weapons cabinet.  Considering it for a moment, she then turned back to Angel and said, "You really should rearrange this.  They're uncomfortable this way."

"Phoebe," Cordelia spoke up.

"Phe," she corrected.  

"Alright, Phe, why don't you tell Angel and Lorne what you told me and Connor?"

"About you being the higher being or that he's the Miracle Child?" she asked off handedly as she grabbed a hunting knife out of the cabinet and began to examine it.  "Because I think they know about both already."

"No, Phe," Cordy answered, trying to hold back her aggravation with the girl.  "Tell them what you're looking for."

"I'm looking for a soul," the teenager told her like she already should know that.  "I'm looking for the soul that will bring the child.  They said you can help me, but you haven't done much of that so far."

"Whoa, wait a minute," Angel spoke up.  "What is she talking about?"

"I have to find the soul that will bring the child," the girl repeated, her own aggravation showing through.  "I can't see my sister until I find them.  I can't protect her until they come."

The others exchanged a look, none of them sure whether they should dismiss this obviously disturbed girl as a lunatic, or take her on as their latest case.  There were things that she was saying that made it seem like she might actually know something about what Lorne had known, but she spoke in that strange way that mimicked Drusilla.  Angel couldn't help but wonder if maybe that she was like Drusilla, being able to see things that others couldn't.  She had to be.  It was the only thing that made sense.

Her aggravation suddenly switched to desperation and she looked as if she might start crying right then and there.  "Please.  We have to find them.  I don't want her to die.  I don't want everyone to die.  But we will if we don't find them."  She looked up at the others, who were all staring at her with a mixture odd fascination and dread for what she was about to say.  "We'll all die by the pale rider's hand."

**********

***Okay, just to let you guys know, I've decided to up the rating just to be on the safe side.  Also, I've reposted the first chapter with an add on to the AN.  If you do not feel like going back and reading it, I'll go ahead and tell you here that this story has taken on more of a life of its own and will be dealing with more religious themes then I expected when I first started it.  I just wanted to tell you now so when we get about half way through it people don't start e-mailing about not being warned before hand, so, consider this your warning.***


	3. Chapter 3

(Fair warning, some ickness will occur in this chapter, but it's not to bad.)

Chapter 3

Max sat back in her chair, watching as other police officers went about their business with the criminal element of Seattle.  She had only been there for a couple of hours, but she was already becoming more and more edgy.  They knew where she was, that meant she was in danger. If they didn't let her go soon, she was sure that she would never leave the station alive.  

The officer that had been assigned to her, a guy by the name of Callahan, sat down across from her, placing the fresh cup of coffee in front of him before grabbing the legal pad off the desk.  He shifted in his seat, going over everything that had already been written down about her, before starting his own line of questioning.

"So, Maxine, how long have you been living on the streets?" he asked, sounding more like he was talking to himself than to her.

Max glanced up at the standard police station clock that hung on a nearby wall.  Too long.  She had been there for way too long, and this guy was just holding her up with stupid questions that she had already answered.  Damn, she needed to get out of there.

"Um, nearly a year, maybe less," she said, staring to scan the crowed station for the assailants that she knew would be coming.  Finally, she turned to Callahan and said, "Look, I know this is your job to ask questions and everything, but is there anyway you can hurry this up? Cause I kinda would like to get out of here, like soon."

The middle-aged police officer lifted his eyes over the legal pad and had a small smile on his lips.  "You know, the Good Book says that patience is a virtue."

A shadow in the corner moved, catching the teenager's attention.  There was a man standing there, dressed in street clothes, but with the hood of his shirt pulled up to cover his face.  A chill went up Max's back, her instincts warning that she needed to go, now.

"That was always a favorite verse of my Grandmamma," Callahan continued on, either ignoring that the girl had turned three shades paler or choosing to ignore it.  "Of course, my favorite verse is in Third book of John, the final verse.  Especially the last line."  Max jerked her head away from the assassin to look back at Callahan.  He had a small, knowing grin on his face as he said, "How about you, Rachel?"

She began to open her mouth when his face changed over from knowing to confused and surprised.  Turning, Max found that the hooded figure had moved from his spot in the corner and was now standing directly beside her.  Her eyes widened as Callahan got to his feet and she saw the knife in the assassin's hand.  

"Max!" Callahan exclaimed just as the knife came at her.

**********

 Xander grumbled to himself as he sat at the stop light, waiting for it to tell him that it was okay to proceed.  It was Tuesday, his day to go and pick up lunch for himself and Tony, the foreman at the construction site he was working at these days.  Tony was a good guy, maybe the only friend he could claim that was actual both normal and had that all important Y chromosome.  

Don't get him wrong, he loves Buffy and Dawn and Willow to death, but some days, he just needs a guy a friend to hang out with, shoot pool with, or talk about that hot chick that walked by the site today.  True, he could do all three with Willow, but still he sometimes needs a guy's point of view of things as opposed to the female one that's always being shoved at him.  And good Lord how girly was he in needing a 'guy's point of view?'

Over head, the red light turned the bright green, singling the car in front of him to proceed.  Unfortunately for Xander, "Ms Lulu," as the license tag read, had until next year to get to where she was going and was fully planning on taking her sweet time.  

"Oh, come on!" the carpenter groaned loudly when the old car in front of him refused to move after several long seconds had passed.  Behind him, another car blasted the horn, as if it were Xander's fault that the line wasn't moving.  Glaring up into the review mirror at the annoyed driver behind him, the Scooby began to yell at the reflection, "Don't honk at me!  She's the one what won't go!" 

Above him, the sky gave out a low, ominous groan, telling Xander that he might not be paid for a full day of work.  Sighing deeply, he slumped forward against the steering wheel while the person behind him continued to honk and Ms. Lulu continued to sit perfectly still in front of him.  Really, could this day get any better?

Something crashing into his windshield answered the silent question he had proposed. Xander shot up as another crash came, followed by another and another and, pretty soon, they were hitting all over his vehicle.  Softball size hailstones were smashing into his vehicle, destroying his window and denting in his roof.  One slammed right through the breaking windshield, sending shards of glass all over the dashboard as the hailstone itself slammed into Xander and Tony's lunch.

He was vaguely aware that outside of his vehicle, the people who had been unfortunate enough to be on the streets when the sudden storm struck were now screaming as they fled to find sheltered.  Xander himself wasn't in much better shape with half the windshield gone and the other threatening to fall in right on top of him.  Without a thought, he unsnapped his seatbelt and climbed over into the backseat of the vehicle just as another large hailstone smashed the other side of the windshield he had just been sitting under.

He felt the utility vehicle start to roll forward before hitting something in front of him with enough force to make him roll off the backseat and hit the floor board.  Of course, at the moment, he was less than concerned with the fact that he was now in a tight, rolled up ball on the ground and that his car had more than likely just hit Ms. Lulu.  He laid there on the ground until the smashing sound started to lessen and it finally quit completely.  

Slowly, Xander rose up off the floor board and peeped around through the empty space before him where his windshield had once been.  Large hailstones lay on the front seat and spread across the hood that was now smoking, but if it was from the hail or the impact Xander didn't know.  Outside, the streets were covered in white, looking almost like they had a thick layer of snow, but broken glass, baring horns, and the injured people who were starting to wander back into the street told otherwise.  Xander himself had a few cuts on his hands from the glass, but, for the most part, had escaped unharmed.  He could tell that a lot of people around him had not been so lucky.

Getting out of his car, Xander was surprised to see how much damage had actually been done to his vehicle and was silently thanking that voice in the back of his head, that sounded a lot like Anya when she nagged, which had reminded him to pay up his insurance the previous week.  Someone groaned from behind him and he turned quickly to find the man who had been honking his horn at him only minutes before was now staggering out of his car, a rather large and nasty cut on his forehead.

"Hey, you okay?" the carpenter asked, jogging towards the injured motorist.  

"Yeah," the nicely dressed man said as he held his hand over the wound.  Some of the blood began to trickle down from between his fingers, staining the sleeve of his nice shirt and jacket.  Xander frowned at this, knowing from years of fighting demons and helping injured Scoobies that this guy was definitely going to need stitches.  

Helping the man sit down on the ground, Xander ordered, "Stay here.  I've got a first aid kit in my car."

Weakly, the man agreed and the carpenter went back to his broken vehicle.  As he dug through the back seat for the kit, he felt something cold starting to fall on his back that was still outside and heard the familiar sound of rain as it fell on the ice covered roof.  He was surprised when he heard people once again starting to scream in terror, and quickly climbed out to see what was the matter.  As the drenching rain began to fall on him, Xander thought that he might join the screams.

**********

Willow stood nervously outside the door she had just knocked on, waiting for the person inside to answer.  This was part of her daily routine that she had fallen into not long after her return from England, and she had Xander to thank for it.  Even with all the classes that she had to make up, Willow still had most of the afternoon off, so he had asked her to drop in on Spike every once in awhile.  

It wasn't that he was afraid that the sometimes crazed vampire was going to do anything to hurt him; after all, the chip in his head was to insure that he wouldn't, but he wanted to make sure that he wasn't doing anything else, like hawking his stuff for money.  Of course, Xander didn't realize that he didn't own anything that anyone would want, unless you count the complete collection of Star Trek: The Next Generation on DVD.  If the geeks were still around, Spike might have been able to sell it to them.  But then, they probably already had it.

Even if Spike wasn't all there at times, he easily picked up on why Willow had been dropping by more and more during the week when Xander wasn't there.  A few weeks ago, he had called the witch on it, and, being the terrible liar that she is, Willow fumbled for several minutes with a horrible excuse before coming clean.  Spike told her he wasn't surprised, and then two did a strange thing; they actually began to have a real conversation.  

Willow didn't know how it happened, but she did know that by the end of the afternoon she was crying after telling him everything that had happened after he left last year.  She felt better after, much better than she had in months.  Maybe because she knew no matter what awful thing she had done, Spike could come back with one much worse that he had done.  He understood what it was like to feel guilt over something like this.  He understood more than the rest anyway.  It was nice to have someone in the same sinking ship that she sometimes felt she was trapped on.  Nice to know that there was someone there to try and help save her…or drown with her. Ever since then she had been coming back to talk to him or listen to him or just hang out.  It was nice, really.  She could easily see why Buffy had liked it so much last year.  When he wanted to be, Spike really could be a good friend.

As she played with the plastic strap of the tiny bag she held, the door opened and a weary looking Spike stood there.  He looked like he was having one of his 'not so good' days, which caused the mothering side of her to kick into drive.  

"Hey," she said with a kind smile that made her look like the Willow days gone by.  "You okay?"

"Fine, Red," he answered, returning the smile before moving out of her way to let her in the apartment.  As she walked by, he explained, "Just slipped and took a header into the bathroom wall this mornin' is all."

"Ouch."

"Yeah," he said touching the back of his still tender head as she went into the living room.  "The whelp's probably goin' to piss on himself when he sees the crack in the wall too."

"Well, he works construction; he can fix it in two stakes of a vamp," she said in a cheery tone as she placed the CD into the DVD player.

"I take it the test went well today," Spike said, sitting down the couch as she played with the player.  She was always extra cheery when she did well on a test.  Like she couldn't do well on one.

"Let's just say that Buffy might be the Chosen One for slaying the undead, but I'm the slayer when it comes to school," she beamed.  Willow was going through the menu of the DVD of "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" when a strange thumping sound started to fill the apartment.   The red head looked over at the equally confused vamp on the couch.  "What's that?"

"Not rightly sure, Red," he said getting up from the couch as Willow walked over to the window.

Carefully, she pulled back the blinds to see around them and not let the filtered sunlight be exposed too much into the room.  Her eyes widened as she saw the hail flying by her face and nearly jumped out of her skin when one of them slammed into the window.  Spike grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the window, but Willow still had a hold of the blinds and tore them down when he jerked her back to him.  As a sure instinct reaction, he hissed when the filtered sunlight hit him, but, thanks to the now very dark and cloudy sky that was raining hail on them, it didn't hurt him.  They stood back and watched for the few minutes that it hailed on Sunnydale in complete surprise.  Only a few minutes ago, the sun had been shining with only a few clouds, and now, suddenly, it was hailing?  That was strange, even for the Hellmouth.  

When the storm died down just as quickly as it began, Willow looked down at her hand that was still holding onto the edge of the blinds.  She gave out a nervous laugh, and held them up for the bleach blond to see.  "Well, between the crack you put in the bathroom wall, the broken window, and my graceful attempt at trying to redecorate, it looks like Xander's going to be fixing up his place for awhile."

"Yeah, with yours truly paying for it," Spike said dryly, trying to follow Willow's lead of lightening the mood.

"With what?" she laughed, glancing over her shoulder at the broken window as the rain began to hit it.   Her face became pale as she then began to stair, and Spike thought for a moment that she might start to scream.  He then looked up at the window she was staring at, and, if his heart did beat, he would swear that it would have stopped then and there.

"Bloody hell."

**********

Buffy stood in the open air hall that flowed into the court yard that some of the kids liked to eat their lunches at.  The plans for the new school had been designed to resemble the old school building, but this was really the only spot that Buffy would dare say actually looked like it had stepped right out of her past.  Everything about the courtyard was the same, down to where certain kids would gather in certain places.  

Let's see if she remembers this.  Um, the cool kids (jocks, cheerleaders, and other social acceptables) would be the group in the center of the yard so everyone could see them.  Musicians and drama kids are under the tree so they could rehearse with one another.  Goth kids would be nearly crouching under the stairs that lead up to the second story, or anywhere else that was dark and dank.  And the nerds would be the ones nearest to the doors that led back into the school so they could get out of there before they became prey for the other groups.  

There were a few other groups around the yard, mainly made of kids who where different from one another but had somehow made friends with one another, like she, Willow, and Xander had back in high school.  Dawn was a part of one of those group that was made of her, Kit, Carlos, and Janice.  They had even taken up residency on the elevated wall that separated the yard in half.  Out in the open, but close enough to the doors to make a quick getaway if they wanted, and plenty of shade, absolutely prefect for their little group.

"It's good to see Dawn is adjusting so well," a voice said, startling Buffy slightly.  The slayer turned and found that Principal Wood had moved next to her, but when she didn't know.  "I was afraid after reading her file from last year that she wouldn't.  It's good to be proven wrong sometimes."

"We all had it rough last year," Buffy said, feeling rather uncomfortable speaking about the previous year.  If anything, she just wanted to forget it ever happened and move on as quickly as possible.  That's what they were doing now…for the most part anyway.  

"It's not just Dawn, Buffy," he confided.  "Most of those kids there all came from troubled backgrounds and we were close to losing them.  You really have worked a miracle with them."

"They just needed someone to listen is all," Buffy said with a shrug, but smiled despite herself from the compliment.  

She never got complimented at Double-Meat, unless you count the numerous times her boss had made snide remarks about her being late or leaving early and how her excuses never ceased to amaze him.  Stupid Todd.  See if she keeps the nasty cannibal old lady away from him next time.

A dark shadow started to float over the yard, covering every inch of it in darkness.  A low rumble from overhead caused most of the people there to look up at the suddenly ominous looking sky just as the first of the hailstones began to fall on them.  A few of the girls began to scream as the large balls of ice began to rain on them and the students tried to flee for cover.  The few faculty that where out there did their best to protect the children as everyone made a mad dash for cover, but a few of children feel to the ground; Dawn being one of them.

"Dawn!" Buffy exclaimed, darting out into the storm that her sister was left in.  

The brown-haired girl was curled into a tight ball while the ice fell on her, doing her best to protect herself from the element.  Buffy rushed to her sister's aid, helping the teen back to her feet and getting knocked a couple of good ones for the trouble.  The sister pair slid for the overcrowded shelter.

"You okay?" the slayer asked, her own body throbbing from where she was hit.

Weakly, Dawn nodded her head, holding onto her middle from where she had hit the ground hard.  "I think so," the teen told her as the crowd of teenagers and teachers watched the sudden hailstorm in fascination.  Buffy quickly glanced around the courtyard, but was glad to see that the few other kids who had fallen were now out of harm's way.  When the storm began to die, she turned back to Dawn.  

The teen picked up one of the softball sized hailstones that had rolled under the covering, smiled, and said, "Well, Mrs. Gardner did say that the school was running low on softball supplies.  Think we should freeze them for the spring sea-?"  Dawn's face became sheet white, her eyes large as the ice ball rolled out of her hand and smashed when it hit the ground.

"Dawn?" Buffy asked quietly before turning around to see what had spooked her sister.

The rain with the storm had set in, but what should have washed everything clean was now staining it in a crimson color.  Slowly, Buffy reached out her hand and let the rain fall onto it.  In mere moments, it was drenched in red, with small streams flowing down her arm and staining the nice shirt she had worn that day.  As she stared at her hand, she was barely aware of the fact that a few people were screaming again, some even fainting dead to the world, or getting sick right where they stood.  Her mind wasn't allowing her to react at all, just letting her stare at her hand.  

Blood.  It was raining blood.

**********

Phe's face paled as she slowly turned and looked over her shoulder at the door that she and the others had entered only minutes before.  Angel could tell something had happened, but he wasn't quite sure what.  Whatever it was, it had thrown the balance off enough to touch everything that had any supernatural links.  Cordy and Lorne were exchanging equal confused looks, as Connor sat there, not understanding what he had felt or why.  Phe swallowed hard as she turned around and walked towards the door, holding onto herself like the physical contact was the only thing that kept things grounded, real, and safe.

"Two to go," she said in a small voice before fainting dead to the world.

**********

The dark-haired girl smiled as she watched the other people in the airport terminal stared in horror at the bloody storm going on outside.  Bet the meteorologist were going to have a field day with this one.  Oh, what could cause the sky to rain blood?  Hum, let's see, could it be…evil?  Of course, they would never come to that conclusion.  They'll probably have some dumb ass explanation about a tornado hitting a blood bank somewhere and then coming to Sunnydale to dump its contents.    Well, it must have been the Fort Knox of blood banks to get this much of the red stuff.  Not that she believed that, she already knew the truth.  Her mother always did say that she knew how to make an entrance.  She just hoped that the First Evil and her supposed brother enjoyed it.

Adjusting the strap of her back pack, the teenage looking girl pushed her sunglasses a little further up her nose and turned to leave.  She went out the automatic door of the airport and took in a deep breath, savoring the smell of the blood.  A part of her growled deep from within, begging her to strip naked and go bathe in this delicious rain.  If she had the time, she might have done just that, but apparently she was being waited on by a very annoyed looking Mr. Rogers wannabe.  She knew that really wasn't what he was, that he was as evil and depraved as her, but still, he looked like he belonged on PBS or something.

"Well, hey," she smiled as she approached him.  "You wanna be my neighbor?"

"You had to show off like that?" he asked, shaking his head.  "You young people really should learn some restraint."

"What?  Doc not like my style?" she mocked, playing like she was a small child who had just gotten her feelings hurt.  Then going into a full laugh, she accused, "You didn't mind when I destroyed that village in China."

"You were doing your job then," he pointed out.  "The All Powerful Dark One will not be happy with you just flaunting your return like this."

"Oh, please."

"He's right, Ms. Johnson," a voice from her past cut in.  Shelia spun around on her heels to find Principal Snyder standing there, his usual disgusted face still the same as he sneered at her.  "Of course what should I expect from a pathetic slacker like yourself."

With a cool tone, Shelia shifted on her feet and said, "Yeah, well."

The rain then let up and began to die, but the dead principal continued to scold the girl.  "Really, Ms. Johnson, I wanted you to keep a low profile.  Even an idiot child like you should know what that means."  He turned his head towards Doc.  "Really, the school system isn't anything but a baby-sitting device these days.  Trouble makers like her and Buffy Summers are proof of that."

Doc remained smiling, like he always did, so Shelia wasn't sure if he was laughing at her or not.  He better hope it's the not, cause she would so hurt him if he was.  She might not be able to kill him, but he was a guy and she knew some much worse ways to make him suffer.

"Now come along you two," Snyder hissed at the two before morphing into a very pretty blonde woman.  Glory grinned at the two and then said, "We've got some work to do before my milk bath."

**********


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The town stunk of death, even more than usual.  Anyone who hadn't been there during the storm earlier would swear there must have been some fierce battle which had caused the smell of blood to soak into the very air that they breathed.  But it hadn't been a battle.  Buffy didn't know what it was, but she knew one thing, it called for research.

After the incident, Wood called the rest of the day off for the school.  That wasn't surprising considering many of the parents had shown up and were planning on taking the children home whether he liked it or not.  People in Sunnydale were notorious for ignoring the obvious bad things that preyed on them, but the sky bleeding was a little harder to look past, especially when your car that had once been a nice, ice-cream color white now looked like it had stared in a slasher movie as one of the victims.  Well, the night crowd might have liked this little display, but Buffy herself was less than amused.  She was going to find out what caused it and destroy it.

Dawn followed her into the house quietly, holding her coat tightly around her body.  Even with all that she had seen in her short life, nothing had prepared the once magical Key for that.  Hell, Buffy hadn't been prepared for that and she was the slayer; she couldn't imagine how her teenage sister was handling this.

Dawn sat down at the island in the kitchen and placed her head on the folded arms in front of her as Buffy walked over to the stove and put some tea on.  The slayer might not be able to cook, but she could boil water. Giles had taught her that much at least, and she soon had a steaming cup of Dawn's favorite flavor ready for her.

"Here," Buffy said, sliding the coffee cup full of the brown, honey flavored liquid in front of the teen.  Dawn lazily lifted her head to look up at the kind smile her sister was giving her.  "You'll feel better once you drink that."

"Doubt it," she said, sounding more broken than defiant.  Still, the brown-haired girl lifted the cup up to her lips and began to drink, just like her sister had ordered.  Buffy slowly reached over and pushed one of the strains of brown hair out of Dawn's face as the teen placed the cup back on the counter.  "Why did it rain like that today?" she asked, her eyes pleading with the slayer for answers.  

"I don't know, Dawnie," Buffy answered truthfully.  "But we're going to find out.  I swear we will."

"It's just, every time I close my eyes, all I see…" Dawn's voice trailed off as the images of the courtyard came back to her.  

Turning a shade of green, the teen jumped off the bar stool and ran up the stairs, covering her mouth.  Buffy started to follow, but stopped at the bottom of the stairs as a hacking sound floated down to her.  She made a face, wondering momentarily why she could face off against the grossest, most vile demon, but the sound of her little sister getting sick in the bathroom was enough to stop her in her tracks.  Oh yeah, she knew why, because she was sympathetic thrower-upper.  If she hears it, she was going to get sick.  God, last summer when Dawn caught that nasty stomach virus from Xander, it about did the slayer in.  Thank goodness for shock this afternoon, or else she would have had a real problem. When she heard the toilet flush, Buffy took in a deep breath, then headed up to try and help her sister.

**********

Wes looked down at the box before him, his face even as he tried to decide whether or not there was something inside of it he might actually be able to use or something waiting to kill him.  It was from Lilah, so there was an equal chance for it to go either way.  

Joshua, the gofer she used for them, stood off to the side, his hands locked in front of him as he waited for the message to return to his boss.  Stupid guy probably didn't even really realize who he was working for.  Or, worse yet, he did and didn't care, just so long as he got paid.  Those were dangerous people to have around because they'd sell you out in a second for a higher price.  Even Wes had known that back when he was Best Boy at the academy, thanks to Jefferson Thompson and a really embarrassing event that leads to the reason why he only wears boxers now.

Sighing slightly, he tore open the box and stared down at its contents.  Even if his face did remain unmoving, Wes felt something inside of him smile as he lifted the dagger out of the box and looked it over.

As if on cue, the phone rang and he didn't even have to wonder who it was.  Really, she must have his apartment bugged.  Placing the receiver to his face, he said, "It's quite lovely."

"I thought you'd like it," Lilah answered.  

He could see her there, in her office, a large, smug smile on her face.  She'd probably have her chair turned towards the window, watching the afternoon sky while she leaned back to relax.  She might even have a folder opened in front of her, reading over it while she talked to him.  Wes shifted uncomfortably, not really knowing why the thought of her at work was getting him all hot and bothered.  On the other end of the line, Lilah chuckled slightly, probably guessing why he was being so silent for so long, but choosing to ignore it for the time being. 

"Do you know what it is?" she asked.

"The Dagger of Constantine," he said, swinging the blade in front of him, allowing his wrist to adjust to its weight.  "Supposedly made from the sword that the Holy Roman Emperor Constantine used during the battle where he had his vision of Christ.  Really, Lilah, you shouldn't have."

"Well, I just saw it in the store window and couldn't resist."  She paused for a moment.  "So…we still on for tonight?"

Wes took in a deep breath for a moment, considering his answer.  He knew what this was all about, a peace offering for what she had done a few nights ago.  So, the question was, was he really ready to forgive and forget?

Wait a minute.  This sounds like a couple's argument.  They weren't supposed to be a couple, just…bed fellows.  So really, what was there to forgive?  He had known that Lilah would use him, or he would use her, so there was really no reason for apologies.  Was there?

"Yeah," he finally said, still looking at the dagger in his hand.

"Can you believe this?" Joshua asked.

Wesley turned around to find the man had found his television and was now watching some news show.  Though he didn't hear most of it, he did catch the highlight about 'raining blood' and the all too familiar town's name of 'Sunnydale.'

"Lilah," he said into the phone while staring at that the rather gruesome pictures on the TV.  "I'll have to call you back." 

**********

Lilah hung up the phone with Wesley, a deep frown etched on her face.  Something had spooked the one-time watcher, but she wasn't quite sure just what.  Of course, if he was reading what she was, he would have every reason to be spooked.  

Part of her couldn't believe what she was reading, thinking that it had to be wrong.  After all their preparation, all their hard work, everything was going to be snatched away from them like that.  And she knew the board would blame her, even if she didn't have anything to do with it, and would probably hand over the reigns of W & H Special Project division to that sniveling little weasel Gavin, or someone else just as unworthy.  Well, she would just have to take care of that, now wouldn't she?

"Susan," she called over her intercom to the secretary outside.

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Call up retrieval, would you?  Tell them I have a very special assignment for them."

"Yes, Ma'am."

********** 

The group sat quietly in Buffy's living room, books opened in front of them, looking for anything that might provide a clue as to what exactly had happened.  So far, they had come up with a whole lot of nothing, with nada in the footnotes and 'you've got be kidding me' in the index.  It's not like raining blood wouldn't at least get even an honorable mention in some book somewhere, but, from what they were seeing, apparently it had been the first time it ever happened.  In Buffy's experience, that was definitely not a good thing.

They had all started to gather at her home not long after she and Dawn had arrived back from school.  Willow and Spike, who was taking advantage of the cloudy afternoon, had brought with them a rather freaked out Xander.  He had wandered back to his apartment, completely covered in blood, and it had nearly taken the two an hour to calm him down and clean him up.  Like the others, Xander might be able to take a lot of things, but look what the whole being doused in blood did to Carrie, and she was a good, shy girl, but she snapped.  The carpenter might be starting to act like his old self again, but Buffy was sure there were many people around town who weren't having as much luck with their relatives.

Anya had shown up not long after looking more annoyed than anything about the situation, demanding to know why the whole town stuck and looked so icky.  As unbelievable as it seemed, the ex-demon had actually missed the whole festivities.  Buffy really didn't want to know what she had been doing that would block out the sound of hail and people screaming in terror, especially considering that this was Anya, so she explained the best she could and asked the one time shop owner if she knew anything.  That had come with a 'are you stupid' look, which was soon followed by Anya voicing the question and then the research party that was now going on in her living room.

"This is pointless," Anya whined, dropping her large text onto the coffee table in front of her while staring at the book with discontent.  "There's nothing in these."

"We've only been at this for an hour, Anya," Willow pointed out, feeling rather aggravated at ex-demon's lack of patience.  "Sometimes it takes a long time to find what we're looking for."

Anya turned her glare up from the book to the witch that was sitting across the living room from her.  "In case you have forgotten, these are the same books we went through cover to cover for in search of information on Glory, on how to defeat Adam, and how to bring Buffy back.  Not to mention I am sure that you used them to find out information on the Mayor, stopping Angelus and the Master, and all the little apocalypses that have come and gone over the years.  We know these books as well as any Watcher, probably better even than they do, and not once have I ever seen anything about raining blood.  And trust me, I think that's something that would stand out a little."

As Willow ducked her head away from the harsh truth Anya was spitting at her, Buffy turned her own glare towards the once again brunette.  "Back off, Anya," she warned coldly.  "Just because we don't remember it, doesn't mean it's not there."

"She's right, Buffy," Dawn spoke up quietly from her perch on the end of the couch that she was sharing with Willow and Xander.  Holding up the book she had been reading through, she went on, "I can quote from just about anything in here because I've read it so many times.  And I don't remember anything about raining blood."

The slayer held her face even, scanning over each of her friends for the response as she asked, "Is this how you all feel?"

Anya's continuous glare that yelled 'duh' was her answer, while the three on the couch shifted rather uncomfortably in their seats.  Meekly, Willow offered, "Have you gotten ahold of Giles yet?  He might have something new for us."

"He still not answering his phone," the slayer answered with a sigh, turning her line of sight away from her rather discouraging friends.  Instead, she found the souled vampire that was sitting quietly, not having offered his opinion once during this whole thing.  She had almost forgotten that he was there.  Almost.  "What about you?" she asked him.  "You think this is a waste of time?  Or does this remind you of something you've read?"

Spike sat there for a moment, as if considering his answer, then drew in a deep breath as he closed the book he had been reading.  

"Take thy rod, and stretch out thine hand upon the waters of Egypt, upon their streams, upon their rivers, and upon their ponds, and upon all their pools of water, that they may become blood; and that there may be blood throughout all the land of Egypt, both in vessels of wood, and in vessels of stone," he said, repeating from memory.  He lifted his head to a surprised Buffy's face, but quickly turned away from her eyes to look back down at the book in his lap. "That's what this reminds me of.  Granted, it wasn't rain, but…"

"So, what?  This happened in Egypt?  When?  I don't remember reading that," Xander babbled on, looking to Willow and then to Buffy for confirmation that this was something new.  

"That's cause it's not in these books, Xander," Willow told him.  "It's from the Torah…or I guess that's the Bible version, huh?"

Spike gave her a weary smile.  "Right you are, Red.  Exodus, I believe."

"Do you two mind telling those of us who aren't up on this lingo what's going on?" Xander cut in, sounding rather annoyed that they weren't explaining that little passage further.  

With a look from Spike, Willow decided that perhaps it was best that she be the one to explain this so to keep a fight between the two from breaking out.  Really, she didn't know how these two were able to live with each other.

"You know that movie The Ten Commandments that comes on every Passover-er, Easter?" 

"With that NRA guy?" Dawn asked, looking just as confused about all this as Xander.

"Yeah, that's the one.  Have you guys ever seen it?"

"Mom watched one time," Buffy offered.  "I saw the part were he got really mad at them for building that gold cow and threw those stone tablet things at them."

Willow frowned a little, knowing that she was going to have to go through this whole story for them.  "Well, before that, there were these other things that happened.  See, the movie is about a guy named Moses."

"Hey!  That's the guy from the Prince of Egypt!" Dawn said, a large smile on her face at actually knowing something.  When the others looked at her, she slouched back into the chair and said, "Janice's sister was watching it one time when I was over at her house."

"Moses," Buffy repeated quietly to herself, the name ringing a bell in the back of her mind.  "You mean the guy who brought those whole 10 plagues of Egypt thing with him?"

"Yeah! That's him!" Willow smiled.   "See, one of the plagues was what Spike was talking about.  The Nile River was turned to blood.  Well, actually it wasn't only the Nile like the movie said, it was actually all the water in Egypt, which is really gross if you think about it because you know there had to be someone who was taking a drink when it happened or bathing or washing-"

"Willow," Buffy interrupted.  "Topic."

"Oh, yeah, right.  So, the whole blood thing was like the first or second plague.  I don't remember which one."

Leaning forward in his seat, Xander asked, "So, what are you saying here, Wills?  That we can expect nine more of these fun little trips into Charlton Heston land?"

"For your sake you better hope not, whelp," Spike spoke up, earning a glare from the brown-haired boy, which the vampire ignored.  "Cause that last one will be a real bitch on you."

When Xander prepared to respond in a probably not very nice way, Willow cut him off by saying, "He's right.  Cause death of the first born son, not so much with the fun."

That caused Xander to pale again as Anya mused to herself, "Death to first born son?  Hum, now there's an idea."

"Anya!" her ex-fiancé exclaimed, horrified that she would even consider it.

"What?"

"Do you really think we're dealing with plagues here?" Buffy asked her best friend, ignoring both Xander and Anya for the moment. 

Willow thought for a moment, then said, "It's really too soon to tell, but I don't think so.  Like Spike said, this only reminded him of it, but it's not an exact match.  Guess we'll know for sure if the town is taken over by locus or flies in the next couple of days."

"Or frogs," Spike added, which caused the witch to visibly shiver.

"Please, don't mention the frogs," she muttered to herself, praying extra hard now that they were indeed wrong and it wasn't the plagues coming around again.  The last thing she needed right now was for her worst fear of frogs taking over Sunnydale to come true.  Yeah, she could see it now, 'Hi, I'm Kermit D. Frog, and I'm here to take over the Hellmouth and destroy you all with the help of my muppet friends.  Get 'em Gonzo!'

"So basically we have a choice of this either being a) another run of the mill apocalypse, or b) ancient plagues from the Bible that ends up with every first born guy in town dying?" Xander summarized.  "Gotta say, speaking for all the first borns out there, I'm not loving either one of these."

"Me either," Buffy frowned, standing from her seat and heading for her weapons chest.  Digging through it, she began to order, "Willow, you and Dawn stay here and see if you can come up with anything that we may just be over looking.  Anya, try your demon connections and see if you can come up with anything."

"What?!  In case you forgot, they won't exactly be welcoming me with open arms you know," Anya pointed out, annoyed that the slayer suggest that she risk her life over a probable dead end.

Buffy stood from the weapons chest, a few stakes tucked away in their usual hiding spaces, except for one that she shoved at the ex-demon with a frown.  "Then use this if you have too, but go."

Groaning, the brunette rolled her eyes and said, "Fine.  But if I get killed, I'm coming back haunt you.  And I won't be like Casper either.  I'll make all your lives hell until it finally drives you insane and you have to be committed."

"Just wait to start haunting us until after we avert whatever it is that's coming," Buffy told her dryly before turning to head for the door.  "Spike, you're with me."

"What?!" Xander exclaimed.

"Buffy, I don't think-" Spike started, but stopped mid-sentence when he saw the look on the slayer's face.

"I don't have time for this," she told them coldly, causing anyone who might voice protest to shut up before it was said.  "The vamps in town are going to be going nuts tonight after that little refreshing show this afternoon; I need someone who can fight them when they're on overdrive."

"But, Buffy," Spike started to say again, almost daring to point out that he himself might become affected by all the blood, but that look in her eyes told him that she wasn't going to listen to him.  Of course, she never did listen to him anyway.  Slumping his shoulders in defeat, he gave a quick nod, then headed to grab his new black coat off the rack with the others.

She started to follow when Xander called, "And what exactly am I supposed to be doing during all this?"

"Scrounge us up something to eat," Buffy told him as the two headed out the front door and into the dim and smelly late afternoon.  "I have a feeling I'm going to be starving by the time we get back."

**********

Wood sat back in chair, staring at the glass half full of bourbon that sat on his desk. He had been waiting all day for news, but it had yet to arrive; thanks to the little blood bath earlier, he was beginning to think that it never would.  He didn't know what they'd do if they failed again.  No, he wouldn't let himself think like that.  They would succeed, they had too.

Wrapping his fingers around the glass, he shot back the contents like it was tequila, hoping that this would dull his senses enough to where he wouldn't have worry about this for at least a few minutes.  Of course, all he had to do was look outside or open the window and he was thrown right back into reality.  Lord, what were they going to do?

The standard black, office telephone in front of him began to ring, and Wood felt his heart jump to his throat.  Alright then, time to know what's what.  Reaching over, he picked up the receiver and carefully placed it next to his ear.

"Principal Wood speaking," he said, sounding as official as he could.

"Two to go," was all the gruff voice said before hanging up on him.

Despite himself, Wood smiled as he placed the receiver back on the cradle and poured himself another drink.  Even with all that had happened, today had been a very good day.

**********


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The room was relatively quiet as the group went about trying to tend to the girl passed out on the couch, who was muttering over and over again in her sleep about there being two left and a soul with a child.  At one point, she had begun thrashing about, yelling about sparrows and how they wouldn't sing, but Angel didn't catch a lot of it.  She either didn't say it clear enough, or it was so low that his vampire hearing had only picked up that she had said something not exactly what she had said.

Cordelia was kneeling next to her.  For some reason, her closeness gave the child a certain amount of peace.  She didn't nearly thrash as much with the ex-cheerleader around, and Angel could only assume that it must be some left over higher being thing.

Connor perched himself nearby, but far enough away from the group to prove himself not to be part of it.  Of course, the big, bald guy that was named Gunn staring at him like he was about ready to smack the kid upside the head if he got too close might have something do with it.   He and Fred had come back from a job not long after Phe had decided to take an impromptu nap while standing. Fred was now just working on a drink they had found in one of the books Wesley had left to try and wake the girl.  Angel didn't have the heart to tell her that that was just Wesley's recipe for the prefect cup of coffee, but instead chose to let her feel like she was really filling the ex-watcher's shoes with being able to do a spell.

"It's ready," she announced proudly, bringing the mug of dark liquid over to Cordelia, who began to give it to the girl.

"Here you go, Phe," Cordy said, gently pouring the liquid into her mouth.

Phe's face scrunched up for a moment as she choked on the drink, and then began to cough at the burning sensation going down her throat.  Finally, she looked up at a smiling Cordelia, her face full of confusion of what exactly was going on.

"Hey," the seer said sweetly.  "Welcome back."

"I went somewhere?"  Phe asked, even more confused than before if that were possible.

Making a show of rolling her eyes, Cordelia sighed, "It's just an expression."

"Oh."

The young girl sat up on the couch and began to look around at the adults that were watching her closely.  The feeling of self-consciousness rolled in, and the teen had soon folded her arms in front of herself as if that were to offer some protection from the pressing gazes.

"What'd I miss?" she asked softly.

"We were kind of hoping you'd be able to tell us, sugar plumb," Lorne spoke up.  "Like, for instance, why you thought that the floor made a nice, comfy bed?"

"I didn't want to go to sleep," she told him honestly.  "But I can't stand the sight of blood."

"Well, you're in the wrong place then," Gunn muttered to himself, glanced briefly at his boss.  Angel shot him a look, and the other man turned his attention to the young Texan girl at his side, who was currently making bewildered and confused faces at the statement.

"Blood?  What blood?  I didn't see any blood."

"You obviously haven't turned on the news lately then," a new voice answered, surprising just about everyone in the room.  Wes stood just in front of the door, before moving forward to the very top of the stairs that lead down into the lobby.  He held his hands in his coats pocket and his face almost even as he studied the other people in the room, who were all turning their attention to the ex-watcher.

"What are you talking about?" Angel asked, sounding colder than he meant too.  

Things between him and his old friend might be starting to get better, but Angel was still finding it hard to trust him.  Wesley knew this, and, so, made his way into the sitting area of the lobby where Gunn had insisted they put a TV that was hidden in a cabinet.  The one time street kid had insisted that it be there for if they should ever actually have a guest who might want to watch television down here, but Wes suspected that it had more to do with the fact that the man didn't want to miss "The Price Is Right" when it came on in the early morning and he and Fred were working the front desk.  Of course, it's not like it mattered much, and it was at least proving useful once.  With the use of the remote control, he flipped it to the Weather Channel that was currently showing pictures of the very scene he was talking about.  

The others moved closer towards the box, as if it had some magical pull on them.  All of them except for Phe, who had ducked her face away in her hands to try and shield the bloody images from her sight.

"That's Sunnydale," Angel muttered aloud in astonishment.

Wesley nodded his head and added, "Where it rained blood this afternoon."

"What?" at least three of them asked at the same time, but Wes was unable to distinguish who it had been.  

"The meteorologists are going nuts trying to figure this one out," he went on, leaning back on his feet as he crossed his arms in front of him to get a better look at the pictures.  "Nothing they have can explain it."

"Of course not," Phe said as if they should know that.  She had her back to them so she wouldn't have to look at the television, and went on, "She made the rain like that.  They can't explain it."

A look was exchanged between the others, and, though Angel had an idea of where this was going, he asked anyway, "Who made it like that?"

"She did," the teen bit back in a 'you're a completely idiot' tone.  "She had to tell them she was back somehow.  Of course, they would have found out eventually, but she wanted to make an entrance."

"Phe, what are you talking about?" Cordy sighed, getting very tired of the circles that this girl talked in.  "She had to make an entrance for whom?"

The teen knitted her brow together as she slowly turned, careful to avoid looking at the screen, with a surprised look on her face.  "The cartoon dog, of course.  She had to tell them that she was back."

"Cartoon dog?" Connor repeated, raising an eyebrow and staring that girl like she had completely lost her mind, but Angel seemed to know what she was talking about.

His eyes widened as he said, "The Scoobies.  Buffy!  They're after Buffy!" The vampire began to scramble towards his office saying, "We have to help-"

"NO!!" Phe screamed, moving his way to block his path.  "You can't go there.  You mustn't go there until the end, when the players are ready."  Angel opened his mouth to protest.  "Shhh.  Don't worry.  You can't go to them, but they'll come to you," she assured him.  "But we have to stay for now.  The city will need its heroes for the coming days.  She has hers."

Sighing deeply, Angel reached up and began to rub the temples of his head.  This girl really was becoming more and more of a bother, he mused before wondering where they had left Cordy's aspirin from the previous year.  He'd stay put for right now, only because he knew she was right in that Buffy had the Scoobies if she needed help and that Los Angeles did need them.  But, still, he didn't like it.  And he was really beginning to not like Phe either.

**********

Buffy ducked as the vampire sloppily swung his arm where her head had been.  The vampire, maybe a few weeks old fledgling at best, growled at her loudly as she popped back up and caught him with an upper cut to the jaw.  His head jerked back with a sickening crack, but Buffy paid it no mind as she tossed her stake from one hand to the other and slammed it in his unguarded chest.  A hiss escaped from between his teeth while he stared at her with disgusted eyes before he exploding into a pile of dust.

She had been right about the vampires going crazy from the amount of blood in the air.  Since they had left the house at sunset, she and Spike had fought off six vampires, two really ugly demons whose names she couldn't pronounce correctly if her life depended on it, and seven reporters who were looking for opinions on it raining blood in their hometown.  

To be honest, the reporters where the worst because at least she could kill the vampires or demons when they got annoying or in her way or within reaching distance.  Stupid no killing humans rule.  Really, would the world be worse off if Millie McMartin who worked for the Tabloid Sun was found dead with that tape recorder of hers shoved up her-

"Buffy!" a voice called out, bring the slayer back to the fight she had been engaged in just moments ago.  She glanced over towards the voice, and saw Spike doing his best to fight off several vamps on his own, and several more were coming after her now that their comrade was dust.  Oh, right, fight now, plot Millie's death later.

She charged at one of the vamps coming at her, leapt into the air, and kicked him with both her feet that landed square in his chest.  The kick sent him flying a few feet back into another on-coming vampire, leaving Buffy just one other to deal with at the moment.  Rolling, she twisted her body to where she flipped back onto her feet, and was standing right in front of the third female vampire.  The vampire threw several punches at her, which she was easily able to block, before she kicked straight up like a cheerleader and knocked her in the chin. The dark-haired girl stumbled a few feet back, and Buffy chose that moment to strike and slammed the stake through the undead creature's heart.

By this time, her two friends had regained themselves and were trying to attack Buffy from behind her.  Doing a back flip, the slayer went right between the two on-coming vampires and made it where she was now standing directly behind them.  She quickly dusted another one, before the other side kicked her right in the head.  

Buffy stumbled a few feet back, as the vampire backhanded her with all his strength, knocking the slayer down to the side.  She shot back up, hitting the vampire in a similar manner, before grabbing his arm, spinning on her feet, and throwing him over her shoulder.  He landed hard on his back, and hissed at the girl that stood over him before she jammed the stake into his chest.

Jerking her head in Spike's direction, the slayer watched as he dusted the last of the vampires, sending the night once more into its usual quiet.  

"God, they're frisky tonight, like hyper puppies," she thought aloud as she tucked Mr. Pointy safely back into his hiding place.   Looking up, she saw Spike had raised his eyebrow at the description.  "Okay, like rabid, foaming at the mouth, 'I want to chew your face off,' hyper puppies."

"You're really losing your touch, you know that, love?" the vampire smiled, starting to walk past her and back to the path through the park.

A scolding look followed him as she bit, "What?!  I've been doing this for eight years, not all of them can be gold."  She caught up to him and began to walk beside him easily.  "Besides, it's not like I heard you making much with the funny."

"Just didn't feel like trading banter with a bunch of witless minion is all," he said, shrugging slightly. 

He momentarily considered fishing out his cigarettes and lighting one up before deciding against it.  As much as he would love to have one right about then, it would make them seem too much like they had been the pervious year; they'd patrol together, fight off some fledgling, trade some banter with some insults thrown in for good measure, then he'd light up and she would look at him with a little grin and then, well, the real fun of the evening began.  No, best keep away from anything that made them get too comfortable or made it seem like it was the previous year.  

That was the whole reason he never smoked around her anymore.  As many times as she had told him that it was a disgusting habit, something about it had always gotten to her; completed that 'I'm a bad guy so it's okay to do what you will with me' thing that she wanted to get out of him.  That was the last way he wanted her to see him now, so, no, there was no smoking allowed when the slayer was around.

"Yo, Spike, did you hear me?" she asked, breaking through his line of thought.

"Oh, um, sorry, pet.  What'd you say?"

Now that he was actually listening to her again, she turned her gaze down towards the ground, like she had wanted an answer, but at the same time, wasn't really sure if she should ask.  "Oh, I was just wondering if you were going to tell me how a hundred something vampire is able to quote Bible scripture."

Another small shrug followed before he said softly, "Always good to know what the other side is up to."

"Oh," Buffy responded, deciding it was best not to press the matter.  

The awkward silence returned that had been plaguing the two the whole night when they weren't battling bad guys.  It had seemed like a logical choice for Spike to come with her, to fight with her like he always had, just like when he had gone with her that night she had found out…the night they were going after that Ronnie the Worm guy.  She had hoped that now that she knew that things between them could at least settle down enough to where they could at least patrol together like they used to before….everything.  But even now, it wasn't working like she had hoped.  Then, she would have to realize, things would never be like they were before ever again.

Spike had been watching her from the corner of his eye, watching as she became more and more uncomfortable around him.  Not that he blamed her.  He really was an idiot for agreeing to come out with her.

"Um, you know, love, maybe we should try splitting up.  Be able to cover more ground that way and all."

Her head shot up at the suggestion.  "No, we don't have-"

"No.  It's okay-"

"Really-"

"It's fine, Buffy," he reassured her before seeing her flinch.  Looking down, he saw that he had subconsciously taken her hand into his.  Spike dropped it quickly, wondering where in the world his mind had wandered off to for him to even try something like that, before he took off.  Actually, it was more like fled from her.

Buffy sighed as she watched him take off in the other direction before continuing on her own path, her hand gently brushing the other where he had touched her but not allowing herself to think too deeply about it.  Really, after the night's activity they had already encountered, splitting up was not the best idea.  But staying together probably wouldn't have been much better thanks to that awkwardness.  It was so distracting that it probably would have lead to one or both of them getting hurt; so it was better they split up.  Yeah, it was better that way.

She walked along her chosen route for the evening, trying her best to not think about things too much; especially the thing that had bleached hair and a British accent.  Damn it.  She had promised herself she would stop doing that.  He had his soul now, which meant in the Buffy Dictionary that he wasn't a thing anymore, he was a man.  Angel had his soul and got to be a man because of it, which meant that Spike does too.  

Still, her mind slipped sometimes and she forgot. She didn't mean to, but old impressions die hard.  

It scared her sometimes to think that her mind set of Spike equals thing would never die; that it would always loom in the back of her mind, screaming at her to not worry or care too much about him because he was next to nothing.  She didn't want to be like that because it wasn't right or fair.

Buffy paused as she entered the part of the trail that went across a large clearing.  So this is what brooding feels like.  Hum.  She had always thought that it had to be more satisfying than this considering how much Angel did it.  Of course, it did kind of sneak up on her real stealthy like.  One thought lead to another and before she knew it, she was brooding over her thoughts about Spike and- 

Geez!  Why was she dwelling on this?  She really must have ADD or something.

Shaking her head out of her thoughts, Buffy was about to continue on when movement from the nearby tree line caught her eye.  She stood there and watched as two fledglings scurried along, one with a shovel over his shoulder and the other with a pick ax.  It had been Buffy's experience that that was never a good thing.  

As she crept along after them, she made a mental note to kick Spike's ass for his whole splitting up suggestion and leaving her to deal with this by herself.  Not because she couldn't take down two fledglings, the slayer could actually do that without breaking a sweat, but because she knew they would lead her to more of them and that it was going to make her late getting home.  Dang it, and she wanted to catch the weather tonight and make sure she didn't have to prepare for a storm of locus tomorrow with gusts of flies.  

They led her through the wooded area that ran right into one of the many cemeteries that Sunnydale had.  It was one of the older ones now, being completely filled by the time she had finished high school.  It actually felt kind of strange being back there, almost—what's that big word Giles liked to use about stuff from his youth?  Oh yeah, nostalgic.  That's what the cemetery felt like.  And how sick was she for thinking of place like this like that?

Buffy continued to follow them to a spot near the center of the grave yard, and then felt her face drain as she watched three other vamps, and one supervising, digging up a grave.  But it wasn't the fact that there were now seven of them, but where they were digging that got to her.  

That grave belonged to Judge Marcus Spanelli who died back in 1998.  It was also the grave that the Scoobies had buried the head of the Judge in to hide it from Angelus and anyone else looking for it.  It had been a fresh grave at the time, and the fact that the headstone had the word Judge on it added an extra little ironic twist that was just too good to pass up.  Not that it mattered much right now.

The two fledglings joined the other three in the halfway dug up grave and began to help.  Within minutes they had found something, and handed it over to the woman apparently in charge.  Though it was dark, Buffy could easily see that it was the black bowling bag that Xander had swiped from his dad's closet for them to put the head in.  

This was not good.  Not good at all.

"Cool.  Boss 'll be pleased with this," the woman said, looking down into the bowling bag.

Wait.  Didn't she know that voice from somewhere?  From a long time ago?

Buffy didn't have much time to ponder the thought because the female vampire then announced, "Time to head back and show the good doctor what we've got."

"I'm afraid your appointment has been cancelled," the slayer said dryly, finally making her presence known.

She stood there with her arms crossed and an annoyed look on her face, giving off that full 'I'm the slayer, fear me' vibe she had been working on ever since she was seventeen.  It seemed to work for the most part, causing the younger fledglings to start to shift into their predatory fighting stances that are accompanied by growls or hisses.  However, the effect was ruined when the woman began to giggle.

"Still with the smart ass remarks, huh, Summers?"

The woman turned towards Buffy, allowing the dim light from one of the street lights from the nearby path to illuminate her facial features.  It took a moment for the slayer's mind to connect who this was before her, and caused a deep frown to emerge on her face when she did recognize her.

"Shelia," the blonde said simply, eyeing the eternal teenager.

"Well, hello to you too, Buffy," she smirked back.  "Long time no fight."

"As I recall there never was a fight.  More like you and a buddy double-teaming me, I dusted him and you ran like a scared bunny rabbit," Buffy mocked.

It was an old trick she had learned her first year of slaying.  Get the vamp mad and nine times out of ten they get sloppy in a fight because of their emotion.  Apparently, though, she was one of the ten because she just started to laugh again.

"What can I say?  It was like Mr. Myers used to say, 'I was young, dumb, and stupid.'  But I'm not anymore."

"You came back to my town after I let you go, so I'd have to argue there," Buffy pointed out, trying yet again to get her raddled with still no luck.

"I'm sure you would."  Shelia turned to a nearby fledgling and tossed him the bowling bag.  "Take this back to the boss.  I'll take care of little Miss Full of Herself here."

"But, boss," another one of them started to complain, but quickly shut up when the dark-haired woman shot him a look.  In fact, they all began to coward before fleeing into the night.  Buffy really didn't see this as a problem.  Shelia would only take a second and she could easily catch up to the others, destroy them, and then go find a better hiding place for the Judge's head.

"Well, aren't we a bit over confident," Buffy said dryly as the two women began to stalk around one another.

"One of us is," Shelia answered, still grinning wickedly at the slayer.

Buffy stopped in the exact spot that the vampire had been standing in before just as Shelia stopped in hers.

"You should have stayed gone."

"No, I couldn't have," the vampiress said before they launched at one another.

**********

Wood pulled his jacket on slowly, taking in the sight of his office for what could very well be the last time.  In his short time as principal here, he had grown quite fond of everyone, especially Ms. Summers.  Something about the girl just made him feel better when she was around, like she would protect those around her; a quality that, for some reason, reminded him of his mother.

Passing her desk, he paused and looked down at it with a faint smile.  If they made it through all this, he really would have to look her up.

Straightening out his coat's collar, he turned from the desk and said, "See you around, Ms. Summers."

**********


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Curling her fist into a tight ball, Buffy spun on her feet to add extra force to the blow she dealt the female vampire, who stumbled a few steps back from it.  Yet the cocky little grin remained on her lips, mocking Buffy as if to say 'is that all you got?'  Determined to wipe that smile off her face, the slayer punched her again with a right cross followed with a left hook.  Shelia's head popped back with each blow, taking the full strength of a slayer and not even making a move to defend herself as of yet.  

In fact, the only thing Shelia was doing was laughing at her.  God, what was wrong with vampires nowadays?  They didn't even know that pain was supposed to-duh-hurt?  You don't laugh at it.  Not if you're normal anyway.

Shelia weaved a little bit as she took a few steps away from Buffy, who still hand her hands up to strike at any moment.  Still grinning, the vampire looked down towards her lip that was dripping blood, ran two of her fingers across the wound, then proceeded to lick them clean again of the red liquid.  "Loosing your touch, huh, Buffy?  What?  Getting harder to beat some little vampire in your old age?"

"I haven't even started to beat on you," the blonde snarled back.

"Oh, you're just holding back then?"

"Just like you," Buffy said, pointing out the fact that Shelia hadn't even slipped into game face; hadn't let her demon out.  Fighting her now was like fighting only half of a vampire, someone who was stronger than a man, but nowhere near as strong as a slayer.  

Shrugging slightly, the black-haired girl said, "You're right there.  So what do you say that we quit playing?"

"What?  You're actually going to try fighting back now?  Gotta say, it's about time, cause I was getting kick of tired just kicking your ass all around the graveyard and you not doing a damn thing.  I got a punching bag for that."

"Just remember, you asked for it," Shelia said, planting her feet in a fighting stance close to Buffy's.

"Oh, I'm so scared," Buffy bit sarcastically before launching her fist at the vampire's head yet again.  This time, however, it did not make contact.  Instead, in a quickness the slayer had not expected, Shelia twisted the top of her body to the side to avoid it.  She then grabbed her extended arm, and, using Buffy's own force against her, threw her past her.

Tucking into a ball, the slayer rolled about the length of a yard before leaping to her feet again.  She spun around to face the vampire, her fist raised and ready for a fight, but found that the dark-haired girl was gone.  Straightening up, the slayer began to scan the area around her, knowing that Shelia was there, watching her, even if she couldn't see her.  That is, until a balled up fist came flying in from the side and smacked her in the face.

Buffy stumbled back a bit from the force, as another punch was thrown at her.  She caught it before it made contact and threw Shelia's arm to the side before landing her own punch square in the vampire's nose.  As the dark-haired girl's head shot back, Buffy grabbed her shoulders and pulled her forward as the blonde brought up her own knee and launched it into Shelia's stomach.  When the vampire doubled over, the slayer then locked her hands together as if to form one large fist, and slammed it down into her opponents back causing her to slam hard into the ground.

Shelia rolled onto her back and looked up to see that Buffy had readied one of her stakes for the kill shot.  When the piece of wood descended on her, the vampire's arms shot up and grabbed the slayer's wrist that was just inches away from the demon's chest. Even with Buffy pushing with all her might, Shelia held the slayer's shaking hand and stake there in that spot.  The vampire's dark eyes went from the stake above her, to the wielder, before she let go with one of her hands and punched Buffy in the face again.

Slightly dazed, Buffy's arm relaxed a little bit, giving Shelia control for the moment.  Still holding Buffy's wrist with one hand, the vampire grabbed ahold of her shirt collar with the other, rolled on her back up towards her shoulders while bringing her foot up to Buffy's stomach, and did an ally-oop flip.  Buffy suddenly found herself lying on the ground with Shelia on top of her with an evil grin.  The slayer's hand began to frantically search for the stake that had slipped out in the flip, and could feel the piece of wood with her fingertips, but Shelia wasn't letting her any closer to the weapon as she sat on top of her.

"Well, well, well," Shelia said as Buffy struggled below her.  "How will our little heroine ever get out of this one?" 

Gritting her teeth, Buffy seethed beneath her, never once giving her the satisfaction of seeing fear in her eyes.  

"What?  No witty repartee from the soon to be very dead slayer?  I thought that was what you were good at?"

"You want witty repartee?  How 'bout this?  Eat me," Buffy hissed defiantly.

"How about I just kill you," Shelia grinned back, reaching forward to break Buffy's neck.  

With one last frantic grab with her fingertips, Buffy managed to cause the weapon to roll into her waiting hand.  Locking her hand around it, she shot the weapon up towards Shelia's heart with lightening speed, slamming it into the vampire's chest.  A small groan escaped from the dark-hired girl as she sat up and looked down at the piece of wood sticking out of her chest and then to the grinning slayer below her.  The smile quickly faded though when, instead of turning to dust, Shelia reached up, wrapped her hand around the weapon, and jerked it out.  

What?!  She hit the heart!  She knew she had!

"Oww!" the young woman cried as the stake popped out.  Turning her blazing eyes to Buffy, Shelia hissed, "God, do you have any idea how much that hurt?!"

Before the slayer could answer, the dark-haired girl turned the stake against its master and slammed it right through Buffy's shoulder.  The blonde gave out a scream of agony that echoed throughout the empty cemetery as Shelia grinned again.

"Not so much fun when you're on the receiving end, huh?" she asked before starting to twist the stake to add to the slayers suffering.  "No, not fun at all."

"That's enough, Ms. Johnson," a new voice said in a cool, yet almost sweet tone.

The two women looked up and found an older gentleman standing over them, his arms crossed and looking rather aggravated at Shelia's idea of fun.  Somewhere in the back of her mind, Buffy thought that this guy looked familiar, but she couldn't remember where she had seen him.  Whoever he was, it was ringing an alarm and she was more than certain he wasn't there to save her because he wanted to.

"Enough?" she practically hissed at him.  "Look what she did!  I have a hole in my chest!"

"And it will heal quickly," he pointed out.  "Now leave the naughty little slayer alone.  Do not forget that the Dark One wishes her alive."

"Yeah, for the moment," the dark-haired woman added before turning her attention back to the slayer beneath her.  "Looks like you lucked out this time, honey.  I was so going to kill you for the whole staking thing."  Shelia then jerked the stake out of Buffy's shoulder, causing the slayer to whimper once more from the pain.  "But I'm still really going to hurt you for it."

Grabbing ahold of the lapel of Buffy's jacket, Shelia lifted the slayer up as she rose to her feet, being sure to lift Buffy higher so she couldn't gain her footing.

"Be seeing you around, Summers," she said before throwing Buffy hard into a nearby praying angel statue.  The monument crumbled onto the slayer like a stack of card from a wind gust, and soon buried the girl beneath the gray stone.  Shelia laughed slightly from the sight, but it then turned to just a grin when she saw the look on Doc's face.  "She'll live," the eternal teenager told the old man before they turned to head back home.

Shaking his head, Doc said the phrase that he pretty much always said whenever Shelia and her actions were concerned, "You young people really should learn some restraint."

**********

When the heavy darkness fell around her, Faith heard the plastic tray smash on the linoleum floor and echo loudly throughout the crowded mess hall.  Most of the women who sat at nearby tables looked up at the source of the noise.  Even one of the gangs started to cheer for her like in high school.  For the most part, however, the women ignored her and continued to eat their dinner while hers was scattered and splattered on the floor.

"Shit," Faith whispered to herself and began to gather up the still few eatable foods on her tray.  She then began to try and clean up the rest before Lynda, one of the guards, saw what she had done and put her on kitchen duty for the next week.

As she reached for her apple, the slayer noticed her hand was trembling ever so slightly.  Great, that was just what she needed the other prisoners to see, especially the ones that hated her.  Snatching up the fruit, Faith stood up and hurried over to a nearby empty table.  She drew in a deep breath and held it for a second, trying her best to calm her pounding heart.  

What was that?  A vision?  But of who?  And when?

It wasn't her, she knew that.  It had to be one of those girls that she had been dreaming about, but this one was different from the other dreams.  In those, she was watching from afar, an objective third party so to speak.  In whatever she had just seen, it was her who was getting beaten by that-

Vamp?  No that couldn't be right.  She didn't dust.  So, then, what was she?  Or, more importantly, why hadn't she killed whoever it was she had beaten?  

With a sigh, Faith turned back to what was left of her dinner, trying not to let those thoughts invade her mind anymore.  Whatever it was, it wasn't her problem.  Not anymore.  At least, that's what she hoped.

*********

Buffy groaned softly to herself as she slowly came back to consciousness.  The slayer found herself in her own bed and, for a brief moment, she wondered if perhaps the day's events had been nothing but a nightmare.  However, the sharp pain that was spreading from her shoulder revealed that indeed it had been real.  Great, now she couldn't even pretend that whatever this was wasn't happening.

Slowly, Buffy sat up in bed, wincing for a moment at the pain, before pulling at the collar of the over-sized t-shirt someone had changed her into to inspect the painful injury.  It had already been dressed on both sides of her shoulder were the stake had gone clean through, and, once she removed the white bandage for further inspection, she discovered that it was already starting to heal up.  In probably no more than a few days, the stab wound would be nothing more than two tiny scars that would not match the one in her upper abdomen from a few years ago.  But still, right now, it hurt like hell.

As she rose out of bed, the slayer ignored her body's screams of pains and headed into her bathroom.  Just as she had expected, the mirror told her that she indeed looked as bad as she felt.  God, how had Shelia managed to do such a number on her?  She only actually hit her what-two?  Three times at the most?  Shelia had barely touched her, yet here she stood, looking like a stray dog who had just lost a fight to another over some scraps they'd found.  Of course, that could have something to do with that statue fall on top of her. 

Worse yet was the fact that Shelia had found a way around that whole 'a stake through the heart equals a dusty end' thing.  How did she do that?  Another ring?  Buffy couldn't make herself believe that.  Deep down inside of her, she knew it had to be much, much worse than that.  With a final look in the mirror and a sigh, the slayer then headed out to see what her friends thought about all this.

"And you just left her when you knew that the vamps in this town are all going nuts?!" Xander's angry voice lifted out of the dinning room and up the stairs that Buffy was now descending.  She paused halfway down, beginning to eavesdrop on the conversation going on. "Did that chip finally fry that part of your brain that actually works?"

"It wasn't like that, Harris," Spike hissed back.  "I thought it'd be better if we split up to cover more ground.  She's the slayer; she can take care of herself."

"Guys," Willow spoke up softly, but the two men were so locked on destroying one another that they didn't hear her.  

"Well apparently not!" Xander snapped back.  "She looks like she met up with the vampire Soprano family!  God, it must have been a whole gang of them to do that to her."

"Buffy?" a voice said drawing her attention away from the fight that Spike and Xander were engaged in at the moment.

The slayer looked up to see Giles standing in the doorway between the living room and the foyer, a worried look on his face as he studied the girl on the stairwell.  Her face drained for a moment as stared at the watcher, before she said, "Giles?"

She hurried down the stairs and threw herself into his arms, wrapping her own tightly around his waist.  She was so glad to see him.  In fact, his presences right then probably ranked right up there with him showing up in the whole Willow episode last summer.  He might not always be there when you first wanted him, but Giles generally had impeccable timing.

"When did you get here?" she asked; the words sounded muffled from having her face pressed into his shoulder.

"Just awhile ago," he answered.  "I ran into Anya and she told me what's been happening."  Placing his hands on the upper part of her arms, he took a step back and looked at the battered woman before him.  "Good Lord, Buffy.  What happened?"

She began to open her mouth when another voice cut her off.  

"Giles...Buffy!"  Willow hurried to her friends, as if she were almost afraid that her standing on her own would cause more damage to her than had already been done. Before she realized it, the redhead was leading her into the dinning room where the others were waiting.  

Both Anya and Dawn were seated at the table, but, as she had suspect, Xander and Spike were both on their feet and looked as if they were about ready to jump one another.  Of course, the whole room seemed to pause the second she walked in, and the energy they had been directing at the fight the two men were having was suddenly turned on her.

"Buffy!" Dawn said, getting to her feet.  Her face was as worried as Giles and Willow's had been when she had first seen them.  All the others, beside Anya, mirrored it as well.

Xander and Spike both headed to her side at the same time, but the carpenter reached her first since he was closer.  It was like they were afraid she would break if they weren't right by her side, and Buffy found herself not liking all this attention they were giving her.  After all, she knew she had been hurt way worse than this before.

As they placed her in one of the seats around the table, Buffy suddenly became aware that Willow was speaking to her.   "Are you alright?  I mean, how are you feeling?  Cause I know you're not alright, I mean, look at you.  Not that you look awful or anything, just more beat up than usual.  And-and I'm babbling again, aren't I?"

"It's alright, Wills," Buffy smiled weakly.  "I'm alright, just really sore."

"Are you sure," the redhead continued on.  "Because you really don't look alright.  You look like-"

  


"A thousand pound statue feel onto you," Anya piped up causally, drawing stares from everyone in the room.

"That's because a thousand pound statue did fall onto me," Buffy said plainly.  

"And you look like it too," the ex-demon quipped back, before turning back to her nails.  Apparently, putting her mortal life in danger really brought out the bitchy side of Anya was the only thing that Buffy could contribute this little flash back to Queen C to.

Xander sent a scolding look over in Anya's direction, before turning his soft face back to Buffy.  "So, what happened?  You ran into a gang of them right?  After the bleached wonder abandoned you."

Buffy caught the faint sound of a growl from Spike, who once again looked as if he were ready to push away any guilt he might feel from killing a human and destroy the brown-haired boy beside her.  Clearing her throat as her warning to him, she then said, "Just one."

"One gang, right?" Xander pressed.

"No, one vampire.  Real blast from the past too.  You guys remember Shelia?"

"Mom?" Willow asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Think more along the lines of Snyder doing his version of the Hustle when he found out she wouldn't be attending school any longer," Buffy answered.

"Oh, that Shelia," Willow said softly before making a face of confusion. "But I thought she was just like a little 'grr arg,' not Big Bad material."

"Well, she's definitely stepped up from the minors, that's for sure," the slayer sighed.  "And it gets better, what with her finding out the secret to stopping that whole calling a shot vac home for the rest of eternity."

"What?!" Xander exclaimed.

"Are you sure?" Willow said at the exact same time.

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure."

"Oh, dear," Giles' timid, calm voice said from near by.  The tone was what caught Buffy, sounding almost as if he expected her to say it, but was hoping she wouldn't.  She turned in her seat to face the watcher, who looked even more troubled than before.

"What is it, Giles?"

  


The middle-aged man looked up once he realized that the others were now watching him.  Drawing in a deep breath, he reached up, pulled off his glass, and began to polish the glass lenses with small circles.  Okay, that was never a good sign.  Whenever Giles was upset because he knew something bad that the rest of them didn't, he would polish those damn glasses.  Buffy had found herself on more than one occasion wishing that she could just rip them from him and demand to know what he knew instead of him stretching it out by the little ritual.  And she knew it had to be really bad this time because if he polished his glasses any harder, he would be left with nothing but a little pile of sand.

"Tell me, Buffy," he said, still rubbing the lenses.  "Did you see Shelia retrieve anything?"

The slayer swallowed hard before nodding her head.  "Yeah.  Tony's bowling bag."

"What?!" Xander shouted once again as Willow's face paled.

Spike and Anya exchanged a confused look and Dawn asked, "What's so scary about a bowling bag?  And who's Tony?"

"My dad," Xander answered with tone that sounded like a mixture between fright and anger.  "I'll give you a clue as to why it's so scary.  There's the head of a big, blue demon that meet the wrong end of a bazooka inside of it."

"The Judge," Spike spoke up, suddenly understanding the paleness that the others had.  He glanced over to Buffy, who only nodded her head slightly.  Xander was a bit more blunt thought.

"Well it sure as hell ain't Papa Smurf."  The carpenter then turned his full energy back on the vampire.  "This is all your fault!"

"Me?!"

"Yeah, you!  You're the one that brought big blue here in the first place!  You and that crazy girlfriend of yours!  And, if I remember correctly, you're the one that killed and sired Shelia, who almost killed Buffy tonight!"

"What are you talkin' about?!  I don't know this Shelia chit!"

Buffy cleared her throat awkwardly, then offered, "Um, yeah, you do."  At his confusion, she clarified, "Parent/Teacher Night.  The Goth girl with a bad attitude and smelled like cigarettes and booze…even more than you."

Spike faced paled even more so than usual as he figured out who she was.  Dropping his eyes away from Buffy, he explained, "I didn't kill her or sire the bint.  That was Dru.  I just brought her to her."

"Well, it's still your fault!  This whole thing!" Xander continued to yell.

"That's enough, Xander," Buffy spoke up, in a low, warning tone.

  


"No, it's not, Buffy," he shot back, surprising her and the whole group that he had turned the fury on her.  "Everything is connected to him some how.  The Judge, Shelia, you being alone when you fought her.  Hell, he was even the one that said the whole raining blood thing sounded like something out of the Bible!  There is something going on, and I'm willing to bet my hail damaged car that he's got something to do with it!"

"Calm down, Xander," Giles said, in even more of a warning tone than Buffy herself had used.  The group looked up at him, surprised that the watcher would take any kind of stand for Spike.  He quickly added, "It is probably just a coincidence that there are these connections to Spike.  After all, we knew Shelia as well, before and after she died, and we were present at the Judge's defeat. I also believe that none of the rest of you went with Buffy on patrol tonight, leaving her just as alone as Spike did."

"I did not-!"

"However," Giles cut the vampire off before he could finish the protest.  "I believe the best course of action as of right now is to locate the other pieces of the Judge, else we might find ourselves in more trouble than we already are."

As he turned to leave out of the dinning room, Buffy called, "It's an apocalypse again, isn't it, Giles?"

He paused in the door way, his back to the group of young folks.  Licking his lips, he said, "No, it's not an apocalypse."

"Oh, thank God," Xander sighed deeply.  "You had me worried there for a minute, G-man."

Giles turned around, his face just a serious as before.  "It's not an apocalypse," he repeated solemnly.  He dropped his head so he could meet their gaze for a moment, then lifted it back up.  "I afraid that it may be something much worse."

**********

The First, who was currently in the form of Glory, grinned widely as the minion held the bag open for her to see inside.  "Oh, this is great," she beamed, nodding her head to tell him to close the bag and set it with the other boxes she had already collected.  "It's like Santa came early this year and I'm getting all the presents I asked for."

"Of course, your most scrumptioness," Doc said, bending down low in a bow, smiling like a guy who had just dropped some of the good stuff.

From her corner, Shelia rolled her eyes.  "Ugh, you are such a suck-up," the dark-haired woman said.  "Yes, Oh Great Dark One.  Of course, Most Unholy Prince.  Can I lick your boots, Master Of My Black Heart?"

  


As she scoffed, both Doc and Glory shot the young woman a look.  The form of the blonde goddess then shook her head.  "Well, I guess I should accept such snide remarks from a pathetic street urchin like yourself," she said as she shifted forms from Glory to Snyder.  The bald man narrowed his eyes in on the teen.  "You always were one to make fun of others' enthusiasm."  

Shelia rolled her eyes again.  She was really getting tired of the whole going from Glory to Snyder back to Glory thing.  "Yeah, whatever."

"Didn't that hollower monkey you called 'Mother' ever teach you any manners?" he bit coldly at her, but with still little affect on her.   "Or that Master of yours," he asked, shifted into Drusilla.  "Oh, the naughty man meant Mistress."

This presence did cause Shelia to stiffen.  It wasn't that she didn't know that she really wasn't her sire, or even the fact that she could take her sire now if she wanted, but it was still the fact that she looked like Drusilla, and she had the presence of her.  

The black-haired woman swayed on her feet, causing the black dress she wore to swish against the dirt floor.  She looked so childlike, so innocent, that it was hard to believe sometimes that this was actually a stone cold killer.  Of course, one really only had to look into her eyes to see what she really was.  To look into those dark pools was to see someone who was truly crazy; but there was such a method to her madness that Shelia also believed that Drusilla was actually crazy like a fox.  There was more going on in that vampiress' brain than anyone ever believed, even that love-sick boyfriend of hers.  Maybe that was what made her so dangerous, even to their own kind.

"Little girls like you shouldn't make fun of things they don't understand," Drusilla warned, her red lips turned up in a devilish smile.  "Only leads to there being one less plate set for my party."

Shelia swallowed, knowing a threat when she heard one.  It never really occurred to the young woman that there wasn't much that the First itself could do to her, considering that it had no definite form; or that she was still needed for the time being.  But to hear those words come out the crazy vampire's mouth was enough to make anyone stop and take the threat seriously.

"Yeah," she squeaked softly.  "Sure."

Drusilla continued to smile at the young woman, her eyes sparkling with mischief and danger, before turning her attention back to the old man.  He was smirking at Shelia like a sibling does when the oldest gets in trouble with their parents.  Of course, he stopped the moment Drusilla turned her attention to him and morphed back into Glory.

"Now, when will the last piece be arriving?" she asked, sounding casual while she looked down at her perfectly manicured nails.  "And this sentence better contain the word 'now' in it."

From over in a corner, a group of the minions who were working under Doc began exchange a panicked look.  They whispered among one another, before the group pushed forward the closest one as their spokesperson.  Glory raised an eyebrow at their jittery movement, and the minion looked as if he were ready to run for the hills at any second.

  


"Well, um, you see Your Most Precious Dark One, um..." He looked over his shoulder to his buddies, but they were leaving him out to dry and deliver this obviously bad news.  "You see, we've, ah, kind of hit a little snafu."

"Snafu?" Glory repeated with a hint of anger.  "You've hit a snafu?  What kind of snafu?"

"Well, um, you see, the, er um, right hand, the missing piece, is well, ah, sort of...missing."

"Missing?  What do you mean 'missing'?" The minion began to back away in almost a panic as she came towards them, her fist clinching at her side.  Her eyes began to blaze with anger as she exclaimed, "Where is my HAND?!!!"

**********

Lilah smiled as she looked down at the little wooden box before her.  The lid was lifted, showing off the meaty blue hand that rested inside.  Ah, yes, this was just what she needed.

From off to the side, Gavin straightened up to peer over into the box and see what was making his boss so happy at the moment.  

"What are you going to do with that?" he asked.

Lilah was in such a good mood at having it in her possession, she answered honestly, "Make a deal."

**********

(Sorry it took so long to get this part out guys, but school has just been killing me lately.  If I can just make it through the week, hopefully I'll be able to start to get updates out quicker, for both this and my other story, Sweet Child *shameless plug.*  Also, guys, keep in mind that, even though this is already chapter six, this story is really just beginning.  Oh, yeah, this is going to be my long non-series story.)


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